


Echoes

by Laurawrzz



Series: Destiny [5]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Accidents, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Angst, Babies, Bounty Hunters, Childhood, Childhood Memories, Crash Landing, Doctor Whump, F/M, Fluff, Gallifrey, Gallifreyan, Gen, Jack Whump, M/M, Madness, Memories, Mind Control, Multi, Murder, Outer Space, Post-Episode AU: s04e13 Journey's End, Prison, Romance, Smut, Suicide Attempt, Telepathy, Torture, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-10-29 18:08:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 52,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10859301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laurawrzz/pseuds/Laurawrzz
Summary: After receiving a message from his future self and fleeing Torchwood in a hurry, the Doctor turns up on the Master’s doorstep three months later with utterly no memory of who he is, how he got there, or what happened to him and his family.





	1. A Night to Remember

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a series, but in this case you don't need to read the previous since the Doctor's just a complete amnesiac anyway. :D
> 
> Continuing my rework of this series, the original is on FF.net, but this one I've updated a bit to be a little less teenage girlish.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Master’s day is interrupted by a crashing escape pod, containing an amnesiac Doctor.

_“This is an automatic activation of emergency program two. Doctor, listen to me very carefully. This is a Code Ten. You have to do exactly as I tell you, or everything will be lost.”_

* * *

 

For the first time in about six months, the sun was shining over Daufor.

The tiny, mostly non-descript coastal village in the west of Wales was the most unlikely place to find a Time Lord, but it was where the Master had taken his residence for the past year or so. It was sort of perfect for him, he’d found. No screaming children, barely any traffic, and not much in the way of people except for an apparently gay red-headed man who seemed to eye him up every time he walked near his house.

He was outside for once; sitting at a silly little human metal table, sipping at some Pimms and just letting his mind wander through a menagerie of topics. But, as always, his thoughts inevitably turned back to the Doctor.

It wasn’t that the Master wanted to be the only Time Lord left in existence, oh no. It wasn’t that at all. It was more the idea that of all the Time War survivors there could have been – Morbius, Rani, the Meddling Monk – it just _had_ to be the Doctor. That annoying, precocious, self-appointed King of the humans Theta ‘Doctor’ Sigma.

Even the _thought_ of the Doctor made his teeth itch, but he took solace in the fact that the other Time Lord most likely wasn’t having as much fun as the Master was. The Doctor right now was probably either sat there watching a human children’s cartoon or being harassed by his cross-species offspring screaming in his ears. Or both.

No, the Doctor was having a rubbish day.

Probably.

He took another hearty sip of Pimms, smiling to himself at the thought. The movement was so hearty and his mind so far away that the glass slipped straight from his fingers and onto the table, where it fell onto its side and rolled off to hit the concrete with a smash. But he’d already stopped paying attention to that, as some sort of high-pitched whistling was coming from directly overhead. He looked up into the cloudless blue sky to see a strange, small black shape heading downwards; plummeting to the ground at exceptionally high-speed …

He got out of his chair, following it with his eyes and trying to predict where it would land. The field right next to his house was the obvious assumption so he strode to the side gate and leapt over, narrowly avoiding the ditch of mud.

As the object neared, it was getting slightly bigger, and also slightly faster. He could see the printed writing on the side now – the carvings of the universal language Uniuxian. Escape pod 45, it read. This was a crash. Not that he could do anything to prevent that, so he just stood there waiting for the inevitable _thud_ of metal on grass.

When it came, it was less of a thud, and more of a loud, tearing, rip-bang-wallop of a crash. The entire escape pod split apart like a peeled banana, and out toppled the one person the Master did _not_ want to see.

The Doctor.

He sighed, waiting for the other alien to rise, dust himself off and go and save a human or forty, but the Doctor didn’t move. He was just lying there on the grass, and very soon the sure stain of blood began to creep around him. The Doctor was hurt. Quite badly, by the looks of things.

The Master moved toward the other Time Lord, still somehow anticipating him to get up at any moment. The Master got closer, and closer, until he was standing a foot away. He lightly kicked his side.

The Doctor didn’t react.

He could see the damage now, a bit of the escape pod jutting into the Doctor just under his shoulder. But that seemed to be the worst of it. That was treatable.

For a moment he just stared at the Doctor, lying there completely helpless. Many thoughts crossed the Master’s mind. He could do whatever he damn well pleased with the Doctor now. He _could_ torture him. Or tie him up. Make him his slave. Have a little fun – just like the Year That Never Was.

This was _surely_ the best present _ever?_

* * *

 

He didn’t bother cleaning up the escape pod, knowing the humans would probably find it themselves and have a minor breakdown over it, which was always amusing to watch. He took the Doctor straight in and up the stairs into the spare room, laying him down on the bed. It had been a _very_ long time since he’d been in this sort of control of the Doctor, and he absolutely loved it. The little Staazula thought he’d had the last word, but oh no. He wasn’t going anywhere, not this time. That irritating blonde and the freak would have to come and find him first. It was all just pure fun, really.

He made sure the Doctor wasn’t going anywhere by tying him to the bed-frame, and checking for that annoying sonic screwdriver of his. But the Doctor didn’t have it on him. In fact, he didn’t have anything on him. Whatever he’d been escaping from, he’d left very, _very_ fast.

The Master would have to heal him, anyway. He examined the other Time Lord over in full – mostly superficial, apart from the site where the metal strut that had gone through which was still bleeding. The Master was a little annoyed that the Doctor was bleeding all over his spare bed, but conceded that there wasn’t really anywhere else to put him before going off for some medical supplies.

When he returned the Doctor still wasn’t awake, which was a little odd seeing as he clearly wasn’t in a healing coma. The Master managed to stitch up the cuts and even stop the bleeding from the impalement near his shoulder. He was finished by 6pm, and hungry, so he left the unconscious Doctor to go downstairs.

* * *

 

He had half expected to hear the Doctor’s usual pleas of “listen to me!” and “you’re better than this!” and “you have a choice!” to start up before midnight. But they didn’t.

The Master did his usual evening of trolling internet forums and cynically watching human television before he checked the room at 2am, but the Doctor was still asleep.

He kept progressively checking the Doctor through the night and into the morning. He hadn’t moved an inch. The Master had tried to enter the other Time Lord’s mind to kick it into consciousness, but the Doctor didn’t really appear to have much going on in his mind, and doing anything with it would be a stupid idea.

By the time it hit 3pm – an entire day since the Master had found the Doctor – he _still_ hadn’t so much as twitched. The Master changed all his bandages and sat by him for a while, still trying to get into his mind. He had _no_ idea what was wrong with it. The feeling he got from the Doctor’s mind was very, very new. Very strange.

* * *

 

11pm. The Doctor was clearly in a very bad way and though the Master would never admit it, he was actually starting to get a bit worried. So much that for a fleeting moment he considered phoning the immortal freak, Blondie or someone else. In fact, where were they? _Surely_ they would be here to save their Messiah by now?

Either way, the Doctor needed a bit of a helping hand, and the Master wasn’t about to let him die this easily and pointlessly. So he made some soup and tried feeding it to the Doctor, but it just ran all down his face as he didn’t even swallow. Tea was even more messy. He had no gag reflex, or even any reaction to pain.

The Master didn’t understand at all what had happened to the Doctor to reduce him to such a level of helplessness. He’d never seen anything like it, and he had no idea how to fix it. It was as though the Doctor’s entire body had gone into some sort of strange hibernation that wasn’t anything Gallifreyan.

* * *

 

The next day at 5pm, the Master finally heard mutterings from the Doctor’s room. He jogged in, somewhat relieved, only to find the Doctor twisting and turning on the bed, sweat on his forehead, muttering incoherently. He was obviously in some kind of nightmare. At least it was a development.

The Master quickly moved to stoop over him, just in time for the Doctor’s eyes to snap open faster than a gunshot – and he let out the loudest scream the Master had ever heard in all his lives. It took him completely by surprise, so when he’d finally managed to recover the Doctor was trying desperately to get up.

“Doctor!” the Master cried, pushing down on him. “Stop, stop moving!”

“Get off!” the Doctor screamed in return, before realising he was tied down and his head whipped to the Master, his eyes wide. The Master would recognise that look anywhere. They were eyes of utter terror. “Let me go!”

“Doctor, it’s me!” the Master yelped, utterly wrong-footed by what was happening. “Relax!”

The Doctor didn’t, continuing to thrash and scream with both fear and pain. The Master had no choice but to grab his head in mid-movement and send a shot right through his mind. The Doctor fell back instantly, gasping for breath with his body suddenly unable to move. He watched through sunken, terrified eyes as the Master moved around the bed and pulled up a chair.

“That was entertaining,” the Master began, the devious smile returning. “Not seen that one from you before. I like the originality, though.”

“… Who are you?” the Doctor croaked, barely able to get the words out.

The Master’s smile turned abruptly to a frown. Though it _did_ explain a few things. “Hmm, a little head trouble?”

“Who are you?” the Doctor asked again with forced strength. “Where am I? What have you … done to me?”

The Master raised an eyebrow. “Bit of amnesia, then. It’s me, Doctor. The Master, remember? You’re in my house.”

“I don’t know you,” the Doctor breathed.

“Oh, it’ll all come flooding back, Doctor, I’m sure,” the Master assured him. “In waves of pain and hurt, hopefully.”

“Why’d you keep calling me Doctor?” the Doctor groaned out.

For a moment there was utter silence as the Master took those words in. “... By Rassilon,” he breathed, completely stunned. “You’re the Doctor. You remember, don’t you?”

“No, I don’t,” the Doctor gasped. “Why … Why can’t I move?”

“I … shot your mind, you’ll be okay in a few minutes,” the Master said slowly, staring at the other Time Lord in complete disbelief. To his complete astonishment a tear suddenly rolled down the Doctor’s cheek – a tear of fright, pain, anger and confusion.

“Let me go … Please don’t hurt me …” the Doctor begged, crying.

The Master was suddenly horrified – a feeling he hadn’t had in a _very_ long time. “Doctor … Doctor … shush,” he implored, begging with him as the gravitas of the situation hit him like a hammer to the face. “It’s okay, you’re safe. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“What’s going on?” the Doctor sobbed.

“I don’t know, I found you in a crashed ship and saved you. But you’ve lost your memories. I don’t know how this has happened but I’m going to figure something out, all right? I just need you to trust me.”

“How do I know _…_ you’re not lying?” the Doctor demanded to know.

“You don’t,” the Master conceded. “But please, let me help you. Just calm down and stay still, I’m going to untie you.”

He did so, aware of the Doctor’s gaze fixed on him; watching his every move as he untied the other Time Lord, carefully. The Doctor looked to all the world like he wanted to get up and run a mile, but his body was still paralysed from the mind shot. So as the Master checked his head he just watched, completely tensed up.

“What happened ... to-to my shoulder?” he whined.

“The escape pod you crashed in broke apart and went into your shoulder,” the Master told him. “Try not to move it too much.”

“O-okay,” the Doctor gasped.

Satisfied, the Master drew back from his head, trying to hide his surprise. There was no damage to his head inside, apart from the weirdness, and the Doctor was still crying. His arch enemy, lying there crying his eyes out.

Well, it was certainly awkward.

“I'll get you something to eat,” the Master muttered, and left the room as quickly as he could.

* * *

 

This was serious. Incredibly serious. So much so the Master knew there was only one thing he could really do, and it was probably the last thing he wanted to do too.

He went to the phone, and dialled his favourite number. It picked up in two rings.

 _“Harkness,”_ the familiar voice of the Freak replied.

The Master cleared his throat, and tried to sound a bit friendlier than he was accustomed to. “Hello, it’s your friendly Time Lord Welsh neighbour, the Master here ...”

_“Fuck off, Master.”_

“Well, that’s nice,” the Master replied insincerely. “I think you might actually want to listen to me, though.”

_“He wants nothing to do with you. Go to hell.”_

Jack hung up.

The Master sighed, and put the phone back down before looking down the hall – only to find the Doctor leaning against the wall holding his shoulder, staring at him.

“What were you doing?” he asked.

“Nothing,” the Master grunted, pushing straight past him to go down the stairs. He very quickly realised the Doctor was annoyingly following him like an obedient dog, so he led him to the kitchen.

“Food's in there,” he gestured to the cupboard, grabbing a fork from the drawer. “Stay here, don't go wandering.”

“Why not?” the Doctor wondered, looking at the cupboard vaguely.

“It's not safe, not for you,” the Master said, moving to the back door. “I'll be back in a bit.”

“Where are you going?” the Doctor asked, suddenly anxious.

“Out,” the Master muttered in reply, and left.

* * *

 

He got to the crash site, a little surprised that absolutely no humans were gathered around it screaming yet. He picked and climbed his way through the metal debris to get to the computer, which looked completely dead. Regardless, he levered the device out with the fork, and reached in to take the black box. A further fiddle with the laser screwdriver linked the two, and the screen miraculously came to life.

 **ERROR-ERROR-ERROR** the screen told him.

He whacked the base of the device with his palm, and it sprung into life.

**BLACK BOX FILES – SP/EP: 109-45**

The Master frowned slightly. The escape pod was from the Shadow Proclamation. What had the Doctor been doing there? They weren't exactly on good terms.

**Analysing files... Complete**

**87% file corruption. See available data? Y/N**

He hit **Y** , and waited.

**BLACK BOX FILES – SP/EP: 109-45**

** Journey details: **

**Origin Point – Registered: Shadow Proclamation, Dock 3/109/45, 14.1/07**

**Destination Point – Custom Input: Sol 3, 52.799687° N, -4.507034° W, 20.8/07**

** Journey profile: **

**Pod activated**

**Custom destination input**

**Estimated journey time calculated**

**Stasis query – occupant confirm – stasis activated**

**Severe malfunction (see below)**

** Malfunctions: **

**Power cell supply nil – catastrophic error**

** Action Taken: **

**Occupant alert unsuccessful – occupant unresponsive**

**Emergency landing protocol initiated automatically**

**-END-**

**Repeat? Y/N**

The Master hit **N** , and frowned again. He could start building a picture, now. The Doctor had embarked on the escape pod at the Shadow Proclamation, and for some reason had programmed to land _right_ next to the Master's house. He had then gone into stasis, travelled for twelve Earth years to his destination, before somewhere along the way the power cells had died and that had caused the crash landing. The escape pod had tried to warn him but he’d not responded, which could only have meant he was either an amnesiac before the crash and had no idea what to do, or he had been unconscious.

But why had he programmed to land here? Where were his family? What had he even been _doing_ in the Shadow Proclamation? And last, but by no means least, _what_ had caused the amnesia? The only reason the Master could see was possibly stasis sickness, but this was far too severe for that.

The Master was intrigued, despite how hard he was trying not to care. He pulled out the black box, shoved it in his pocket, got up and began trudging back to his house.

He was only halfway when a thought occurred to him that stopped him dead in his tracks. The Doctor had been in this pod for twelve years, but he'd last seen him around five months ago. That could mean it had only been days since he'd left here – hours, even.

It was fairly likely that the reason the minions hadn't come to save their Messiah was actually because they had _no_ idea that he was even missing.

 


	2. Blondie, Girly, and the Freak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Master escorts the amnesiac Doctor back to Torchwood.

He found the Doctor in the kitchen, staring at something on the kitchen worktop with his head twisted sideways. The moment the Master entered he looked up, his brow furrowed.

“What is this, Master?” he asked, pointing at the contraption with the face of a two-year-old in true wonder.

“A toaster,” the Master replied abruptly, annoyed. “Sit down.”

The Doctor did, almost instantly. This was strange. Far too strange. He was doing  _ exactly  _ what the Master said. Trying to shrug that off, the Master moved to the cupboard. "Okay, I'm going to have to take you home. I don't care enough for this."

"But I like it here," the Doctor protested. 

"You're not staying."

"But ..."

"Shut up, drink this," the Master said, putting a glass of suspicious-looking water down in front of the other Time Lord. It was so incredibly suspicious that even a four-year-old would've questioned it, but not the Doctor apparently. He drank it without question.

It only took about three seconds. With nothing but a quiet squeak the Doctor dropped the cup, closed his eyes and collapsed forward onto the table – knocked out instantly by the drug. 

“That was too easy,” the Master grunted, picking up the cup before staring at the Doctor, lying there completely helpless. This was not his enemy. This was some pathetic, idiotic, crippled version of him, and there was no way the Master was going to make it so easy for himself. He couldn’t take advantage of this.

The phone began to ring from the hall, and instantly the Master frowned. It could only be the Freak, calling back to beg for an apology. 

He sighed and went to the hall to pick up. 

“Realised your mistake?” the Master wondered cynically, but it wasn't the Freak that replied.

_ “Hello, our records state you may be entitled to claim PPI!”  _ a young man said boldly.  _ “Have you taken out a loan or credit card within the past...” _

“Stop calling here!” the Master yelled, and slammed the phone down. Bloody humans.

* * *

 

The groan was what signified that the Doctor was coming to. The Master sighed, having enjoyed the peace and quiet for the three hours prior. That was the end of that, then. 

He kept his eyes on the road and his hands on the steering wheel, just listening to the Doctor's movements as he came to. 

"Master?" he asked, the word slightly slurred. 

"Hmm," was all the Master replied to that. 

"Why am I tied up?"

"Insurance," the Master answered simply. 

"Where are we going?"

"I told you. I'm taking you home."

"But I want to stay with you."

"You can't."

"Why not?"

"Doctor, be quiet."

"No. I want to stay.”

"We should not even be having this conversation!” the Master insisted. “You don’t remember me at  _ all _ , do you? I’m not your friend, not in the  _ slightest _ , so I’m taking you to someone who can actually be bothered to deal with you being like this!"

“But that sort of makes you a friend,” the Doctor pointed out. “You’re taking me somewhere safe.”

“Don’t get smart,” the Master spat, annoyed. “You always were annoyingly pedantic.” 

“You could have left me to die,” the Doctor continued.

“I’d rather you died when you actually know it’s me who’s killing you,” the Master grated. “Now be quiet."

Blissful silence descended on the car for a good few seconds, but the Master didn't relax. He could feel the Doctor staring at him. 

"Stop looking at me," the Master ordered maliciously. 

He felt the Doctor's eyes instantly move off of him, and relaxed slightly. 

The silence only lasted about a minute.

"Where's my home?" the Doctor suddenly asked. 

"With Blondie, Girly, the Freak and your various annoying spawn. 

"I don't remember those people."

The Master rolled his eyes, aggravated. "I don't care. Be quiet."

A two minute silence followed this time. The Master knew it was far too good to be true. It was. 

"Where are we?” the Doctor wondered.

“Doctor, if you don't shut your mouth I'll shut it for you.”

Thankfully this time he took the hint. He did indeed shut his mouth, and didn't say anything for the rest of the trip.

* * *

 

They arrived in Cardiff Bay around 10pm. 

The Master practically dragged the Doctor to the little shop that served as the entrance to Torchwood, bursting through the door and ringing the bell insistently. Very quickly Ianto appeared, smiling a broad smile – at least until he saw who it was, at which point his face quite abruptly fell.

“Get that annoying black-haired one out here, would you,” the Master demanded, keeping a firm hold of the Doctor's collar as though he were a dog.

Ianto ran off instantly, and around ten seconds later Jack appeared, looking very annoyed.

“Doctor, over here,” Jack gestured, arm out.

“What?” the Doctor asked, confused. “Who are you?”

Jack frowned at his words, hateful eyes snapping to the Master. “What have you done!?”

“Look, I didn't come here to make small talk, take this thing,” the Master grunted, shoving the Doctor forward to the Captain who caught him.

“If you've hurt him you're dead,” Jack grated, hand hovering over his gun with the other holding the Doctor's arm with care.

“Oh, you always jump to conclusions,” the Master sighed. “I've done nothing. In fact, I'm trying to help you. Black box from the crashed escape pod I found him in, it's quite an interesting read.” He threw a package onto the counter. “Take it or leave it, I don't care, he's your problem now.”

“Rubbish. Get the hell out.”

“Good bye to you too,” the Master said sarcastically, and left out of the door.

Jack watched him from a moment, making sure he was truly gone before turning to the Doctor, checking him over. He was slightly bruised and cut up, and his clothes were wrecked.

“You all right? Where's Rose and the kids?”

”Who are you?” the Doctor repeated, ignoring the question.

Jack laughed. “Yeah, very funny. You can drop it now, he's gone. Where are they?”

The Doctor just stared at him in response, obviously very confused.

Jack suddenly felt very apprehensive at his expression. “Stop messing about, I've seen right through you,” he tried to joke.

“What?” the Doctor asked, still confused.

“... Doctor ...” Jack began, wary. “What's my name?”

The Doctor didn't break his gaze, his eyes narrowing, his head tilting ... “I don't know...?”

Jack swallowed, and then nodded decisively. “Okay, amnesia. I'm Jack, I'm a friend. We'll sort this, c'mon.”

He guided the Doctor past a very tense-looking Ianto and into the Hub, where Martha was standing, waiting.

“Doctor!” she cried, running to him.

The Doctor suddenly flinched and backed away slightly, holding up his arms to stop Martha. Martha halted in her tracks, blinking in surprise before she looked questioningly at Jack.

“I think it's amnesia,” Jack told her. “Take it slow.”

“Amnesia?” the Doctor repeated, struggling to get his mouth around the word. “Am I ill?”

“You've forgotten a few things, that's all,” Jack replied.

“What have I forgotten?”

“Well, let's find out,” Martha said. “Do you remember me?”

“No,” he said, still apprehensive.

“... Do you know where you are?”

“No.”

“Well you're in Torchwood, you're safe here, we'll look after you,” she told him patiently. “If you have any questions, just ask us, all right?” 

“Can I ask one now?”

“Yeah?”

“What planet is this?”

Jack and Martha looked at each other for a moment, shocked. He saw their look, his eyes flickering between them.

“Sorry, should I not have asked that?” the Doctor asked anxiously.

“No, no it's fine. You're on Earth, planet Earth,” Martha told him gently. “You call it Sol 3.”

Jack was just staring at the Doctor in complete despair. “What the hell has he done to you?” he moaned, hugging him caringly. “Don’t worry, we’ll fix this.”

“The Master didn’t do anything,” the Doctor insisted. “He’s my friend!”

“Jesus,” Jack muttered, running his hand through his hair before looking at Martha. “Martha, this is scaring me.”

“Me too,” Martha agreed in a murmur, moving forward to the Doctor. “I’m Martha,” she said by way of introduction. “I used to travel in your Tardis with you.”

“What’s a Tardis?” the Doctor asked blankly.

Jack swore under his breath, and Martha quickly smiled to reassure the Doctor.

“Don't worry, we'll explain later,” she said gently. “I'd like to check you over if that's okay? Make sure you're healthy and do a head scan.”

“A what?”

“A head scan,” she repeated slowly and clearly. “I'll put you in a machine and check to see whether you've got any damage to your head that might have caused the amnesia.”

“Oh, okay,” the Doctor replied absently, nodding. 

A few seconds later Mickey appeared, ducking his head out from behind a bank of computers.

“Doctor!” he realised, getting up to go to the crowd, but very quickly picked up on the fact that no one seemed to be smiling. “What?”

“We're taking the Doctor to the Med Bay,” Martha explained with wide eyes, urging him to catch on.

“Can't he go himself?” were the exact words Mickey was  _ about _ to say, but one look at the Doctor made him stop himself instantly. He didn't look ... right. Vacant. This was him outwardly, but through those eyes Mickey could see no sign of a spark. No intelligence. No comprehension.

Absolutely nothing.

He knew pretty much instantly what was wrong.

“C'mon, Doctor,” he said instead, taking his arm. “I'm Mickey.”

“Nice to meet you,” the Doctor said pleasantly. 

Mickey glanced at Jack, who was standing there staring at the Doctor as though wounded. Usually Mickey was only greeted by the Doctor with an enthusiastic, “Mickey boy!” and this time all he'd had was a polite introduction.

As stunned as he was, Mickey smiled in return to the Doctor, and took him away.

Martha looked at Jack still gazing after the Doctor. She reached out to squeeze his arm reassuringly. “Don't worry, we'll sort this.”

Jack just nodded at that, and the both of them followed Mickey.

* * *

 

The Doctor was like a child when he saw the scanner – both terrified and enormously excited at the same time at the big metal flashing device. With a little reassurance from Martha he did what he was told and climbed in so Martha could scan his head.

Jack just watched, utterly emotionless as the results came through. 

Martha leant forward, examining intently. “Oh, that's strange.”

“What?” Jack asked.

“Look here.” She pointed to the back of the Doctor's skull, which looked a little cracked. 

“Someone's whacked him, then?” Mickey asked.

“No ... Well, not recently, anyway,” Martha muttered. “Look at how much it's healed. And it's only a tiny crack; nothing serious enough to cause complete amnesia. The temporal lobe looks fine.” She then frowned, looking at Jack. “How did he get here?”

“The Master brought him,” Jack muttered.

Martha grimaced. “I was afraid of that. I think he's done something to the Doctor in his head – something really bad. Something we can't detect.”

Jack swore loudly, his fists clenching.

“Can I get up?” the Doctor suddenly asked.

“Yes, of course, sorry,” Martha said, realising she had been talking in third person. She'd almost forgotten he was there. She moved to the Time Lord and helped him sit up on the scanner. “Are you hurting anywhere?”

The Doctor grimaced, pointing. “My shoulder.”

“Okay, let's see,” she said, cautiously unbuttoning his shirt to assess the damage, but to her complete surprise, it was already cleaned up and fully treated, wrapped in packet-fresh bandages. She didn't need to do anything for it. She didn't even need to treat his other wounds either; his cuts were already stitched up to perfection.

It could have only been the Master.

She glanced at Jack, who had obviously also figured that out as he was frowning quite deeply. 

“He wouldn't bother doing this,” was all she said.

“I know,” Jack replied quietly.

“What? Who?” the Doctor asked, confused.

“Don't worry, let me check you over,” Martha replied, still forcing that smile. She hoped it looked supportive. She retrieved a medical bag from the side, and pulled out a stethoscope to check his hearts beat, following by his lungs. The Doctor just watched her do it, obediently silent and still. 

“Hearts and lungs are fine,” she announced, and pulled out her next instrument to check his temperature. Then his pupil dilation, his blood pressure, his respiration rate, his head, neck, abdomen, skin, fingers, reflexes, muscular strength, balance ... until she finally ran out of tests. It was at least twenty minutes of examinations in total, and the Doctor hadn't spoken a word. Not a single _ ,  _ 'you humans and your tests!' or 'I'm perfectly fine!'. 

Nothing about it felt right.

“He's fine, completely fine,” she summarised, and quickly realised she was talking in third person again and tried to focus on the Doctor. “Sorry, I mean, there's nothing physically wrong with you, apart from the crash injuries of course. Which the Master seems to have ... umm ... taken care of.”

“Is that bad?” the Doctor wondered, taking in all their stony expressions.

“Oh, no, it's good,” Martha assured him,  _ trying  _ to widen her smile. “It's just ...”

“What?”

Martha decided to go straight in with it. “What's the first thing you remember about the Master?”

“I woke up in his house,” the Doctor replied, completely honestly. 

“Take us through it,” Martha said gently.

The Doctor did so immediately, telling them the complete story from the moment he'd woken up, to arriving at Torchwood in the car. By the end of it, the other three were just staring at him in utter disbelief. Nobody spoke for quite a while, at least until the Doctor suddenly laid himself down on the scanner and closed his eyes.

“Doctor?” Jack asked quickly, moving forward. “Are you all right?”

“Going to sleep,” the Doctor told him, deadpan.

“You can't do that here.”

“Can't I?”

“No, it's not comfortable. Come on, I'll find you a bed.”

“Oh, okay,” the Doctor replied, standing up immediately and waiting for Jack to take him to the destination. It was so strange how he just followed direct orders without question. He trusted Jack completely, even though the Doctor had only technically met him twenty minutes ago.

He was so  _ naïve _ .  

Jack took his hand and pulled him up the stairs and across the Hub. He pulled back the hatch to his room and gestured for the Doctor to go down. He did, and for a moment just stood there, staring into the darkness.

“Turn on the light,” Jack advised, staring at him from above.

“What?” the Doctor asked, looking back up at him with a blank expression.

Jack climbed down and reached for the bed lamp, switching it on. The Doctor sprang back in surprise; terrified by the sudden explosion of light.

“It's all right,” Jack said quickly to calm him down. “It's just a light. Just get undressed and go to sleep.”

The Doctor just looked at him blankly again.

“Okay, just stay still,” Jack said gently, unbuttoning the rest of his shirt and pulling it off. The Doctor didn't say anything. He wasn't pulling away; he wasn't making a joke about Jack finding fun in undressing him; he wasn't doing  _ anything.  _ Even when Jack pulled off his shoes and trousers – even when he was just standing there in his boxers, gazing at Jack – he did  _ absolutely nothing. _

It was really quite scary.

“Get into bed, sorry about the mess,” Jack said, pulling back the covers for him. 

Like a robot the Doctor did as he instructed and climbed in, curling himself up into a ball. 

Jack offered him a smile. “Don't worry, we'll sort this out. Good night.”

“Good night,” the Doctor replied automatically, and shut his eyes.

* * *

 

Martha and Mickey were waiting when Jack got back out of the hatch. He closed it and turned to them, feeling as though he were about to cry.

“I had to undress him, he didn't ... He just let me do it,” Jack muttered. “Just stood there.”

Martha nodded, understanding, as did Mickey. “Hopefully this is temporary. He might be okay when he wakes up.”

“God, I hope so,” Jack muttered, staring at the floor. “I really don't like seeing him like this.”

“I know, me neither,” Martha agreed.

“But that stuff about the Master, does this mean the Master was helping him?” Mickey asked suddenly.

“I think so,” Martha replied, but even looked incredibly confused at her own sentence. “Unless the Doctor was lying.”

“I don't think he knows what lying is,” Jack pointed out.

“No ...” Martha agreed. “Look, let's just wait until morning. He'll probably be up tomorrow and annoying the hell out of us like usual.”

“Probably,” Jack muttered, but he didn't really believe it.


	3. My Mother-in-Law

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor has an apparent nightmare. Torchwood check the Black Box recording, and Jack takes the Doctor to visit Jackie in the hope of regaining some of his memories.

Jack took the sofa for the night whilst everyone else went home. It was difficult sleeping on a sofa far too small for his height, but eventually he somehow managed to drift off into a broken form of sleep. At least until a strange crying sound woke him up again at 5am.

He sat up instantly, listening intently. It had stopped.

Dismissing it as part of a dream, he got comfortable again. No more than a second after he did it came again, this time much louder.

It was the Doctor.

He got up and moved quickly to his room, pulling back the hatch and dropping down. He flicked the light switch and found the Time Lord thrashing around and yelling every now and then, utterly entangled in the covers and coated in sweat. Tears were streaming down his face in turmoil, his hands clinging onto the bed cover as he arched his back, screaming.

Jack had seen him in nightmares a few times before – mostly about the Time War – but this was much,  _ much _ worse than anything Jack had seen him do before. He had to wake him out of this one, before he ended up hurting himself.

“Doctor!” Jack called, grabbing his shoulder and shaking him urgently. 

The Doctor screamed and nearly head butted Jack in the face as he sat bolt upright, utterly panicked. 

“Doc, calm down!” Jack urged, maintaining his grip and trying to get in his vision.

The Doctor panted for breath with tears still streaming down his cheeks, looking at him with wide, watery eyes. “Jack?” he croaked.

“It's all right, you're fine,” Jack said quickly, pulling him into a hug. “You're in Torchwood.”

The Doctor didn't reply, secured in Jack's hug as he sobbed, unrelenting. 

After a while Jack pulled away, cupping his cheek. “Nightmare?” he asked.

“Wh-what's a n-nightmare?” the Doctor gasped.

“Pictures in your mind? Scary ones?” Jack asked, a little disappointed he still didn't have his memory back but that couldn't be helped.

“I c-can't r … remember ...”

“S'alright,” Jack assured him, hugging him again. “Just a nightmare, we all get them.”

“O-okay,” the Doctor gasped, and remained in the hug. They stayed like that for a while, until Jack finally pulled away and used his thumb to wipe away the last of the Time Lord's tears.

“Go back to sleep, I'll fix us some breakfast when you wake up again,” Jack said gently.

The Doctor shook his head rapidly. “I don't want to go back to sleep.”

Jack decided not to argue. “All right, I'll get the shower running for you then. D'you remember how to use a shower?”

“No.”

“That's okay, I'll teach you.”

* * *

 

Jack made toast and got some orange juice timed ready for when the Doctor came back out of the shower. Unfortunately, having spent the night in broken sleep Jack was exhausted, and fell asleep at the table. He only woke up a few minutes later when he was suddenly poked in the shoulder by something and he sat bolt upright, snapping open his eyes, automatically raising his fists straight at the thing – only to realise it was the Doctor, standing over him, staring.

“Holy crap, Doctor,” Jack gasped, quickly dropping his fists. “Don't do that.”

“Are you okay?” the Doctor asked.

“Yeah, just a bit tired, I ...” he trailed off as he realised with a strange combination of surprise, horror, delight and confusion that the Doctor wasn't dressed from his shower, just stood there completely naked. “... Get dressed, Doc.”

“What? Oh,” the Doctor realised, looking down at himself. “Sorry. I forgot that bit.”

Jack just smiled reassuringly at him. “S'alright, I'm enjoying it.”

“You're enjoying it?” the Doctor queried.

“Oh, when you remember you're going to go mental,” Jack grinned. “Just get dressed. Use the clothes I put out for you.”

“Okay,” the Doctor replied, and left. 

Jack's face instantly fell. Any fleeting thought he may have had that maybe the Doctor was putting it on for some insane, unknown reason was tarnished. He would  _ never  _ have done that.

He just sat and waited for the Time Lord to return as the clock hit 6am. Thankfully when he did he was fully dressed in jeans and a t-shirt from Jack's range, so consequently completely not his size. He took the seat at the table, picking up the toast with his good arm and devouring in two bites. He certainly ate like the Doctor anyway.

“How's your shoulder?” Jack asked, noticing he was holding it rigid.

“Hurting,” he replied.

“We'll need to reapply the bandage after this,” Jack told him. “Not sure if we've got any of your painkillers left.”

“My painkiller?” the Doctor queried, frowning.

“Yeah, you're badly allergic to aspirin. We keep stocks of your painkiller just in case. Last year sort of wore it out though.”

“What happened last year?”

Jack pursed his lips. “Err, long story. Anything come back yet?” 

“I don't think so,” the Doctor replied after a moment's thought.

“Okay, don't worry, it'll come,” Jack assured him, and noticed he'd already finished his toast. “D'you want some more breakfast?”

“No, thank you,” the Doctor replied politely.

Jack nodded. “Let me eat this and we'll do your shoulder.”

* * *

 

Martha and Mickey arrived just as Jack was finishing up rebandaging. Mickey stayed with him as Martha pulled Jack from the room, conspiratorial.

“Nothing come back?” she wondered.

Jack shook his head. “I think he had a nightmare this morning, the worst I've ever seen him having one. He couldn't remember what he dreamt of, though.”

Martha nodded, as if it confirmed something. “I was thinking last night ... if there's no damage to his head that could cause something like this, maybe it's not  _ physical _ trauma.”

Jack got it instantly. “You mean psychological trauma?”

“Maybe something happened,” she continued, nodding. “Something so bad it caused a fugue.”

“Something to do with Rose and the kids?”

“Maybe. Maybe they died.”

Jack's eyes widened. “No. That's not possible.”

Martha gazed at him, sympathetic. “Jack, I know it's difficult to take in ...”

“It's not, it's just not that,” he almost snapped in reply. “This doesn't happen when the bond gets severed like that, you didn't see his future self four years ago, but it was nothing like this. The Doctor told me himself, when Rose dies he will go insane and try to kill himself, not lose his memory.”

“Sorry,” Martha said quickly. “It was just a suggestion.”

Jack sighed, calming himself down. “I know, sorry. Look, I think that nightmare was probably the Time War. I reckon his memory's still there but he can't quite reach it when he’s conscious. I've got a plan.”

“Plan?” she echoed.

Jack nodded. “Gonna take him to Jackie's later. Maybe she can help. For now let's just see what he knows ... Find out where we're at.”

“Good idea,” Martha agreed, just as the Doctor and Mickey appeared at the top of the stairs. The Doctor had forgotten to put his shirt back on again, standing there half-naked with his arm in a sling. He went straight to Jack.

“Gonna need to teach you how to shave,” Jack realised, gazing at the Doctor's jawline. “First off, let's try and get a bit of that memory back.”

The Doctor nodded, following Jack immediately like a child at his parent's side. Jack was about to take him to the sofa, when Ianto interrupted from the side.

“Jack, did you want this?” he asked, waving a brown package. 

It took Jack a moment to realise it was the Master's package from yesterday. He was about to say no, when he stopped himself.

“Actually, yes,” he replied, and Ianto handed it to him. The others watched, slightly apprehensively, as he carefully pulled it open and slid something out of the packaging.

“Black box,” Martha realised.

“Just like he said,” Jack added, a little bit surprised at how honest the Master had been.

“What is that?” the Doctor asked, peering at the device in Jack's hand, confused.

“Something that might answer a few questions,” was all Jack replied, before handing the box to Mickey. “Let's get it linked into the computers.”

* * *

 

**ERROR-ERROR-ERROR**

**BLACK BOX FILES – SP/EP: 109-45**

**Analysing files... Complete**

**87% file corruption. See available data? Y/N**

**BLACK BOX FILES – SP/EP: 109-45**

**Journey details:**

**Origin Point – Registered: Shadow Proclamation, Dock 3/109/45, 14.1/07**

**Destination Point – Custom Input: Sol 3, 52.799687** **° N,** **-4.507034** **° W,** **20.8/07**

**Journey profile:**

**Pod activated**

**Custom destination input**

**Estimated journey time calculated**

**Stasis query – occupant confirm – stasis activated**

**Severe malfunction (see below)**

**Malfunctions:**

**Power cell supply nil – catastrophic error**

**Action Taken:**

**Occupant alert unsuccessful – occupant unresponsive**

**Emergency landing protocol initiated automatically**

**-END-**

**Repeat? Y/N**

“You were in the Shadow Proclamation,” Jack realised, looking at the Doctor in horror. “Why were you there!?”

“What's a Shadow Proclamation?” the Doctor asked as a form of reply.

“Never mind,” Jack dismissed, almost getting a little annoyed at the Doctor's constant questions, so he quickly chastised himself for that. It wasn't the Doctor's fault. “D'you remember anything before you woke up at the Master's house?”

“I don't know,” the Doctor replied, his face utterly passive.

“Think!” Jack urged.

The Doctor stared at him, his eyes suddenly filling up with tears. “I'm sorry,” he mumbled.

Jack quickly regretted his outburst, resting a hand on the Doctor's good shoulder as a form of comfort. “No, my fault, I'm sorry. But before you woke up. There must be something before that ...?”

“Umm ...” the Doctor murmured, frowning. “I think ... I think I was running.”

“Running from?”

“Something scary.”

“What was scary about it?”

“It was going to kill me.”

“Kill you? What was it?”

“I ... I don't know,” the Doctor muttered. “I was just running.”

“That's all right,” Jack assured him. “Was there anyone with you?”

“People. Other people. I don't know who they were.”

“And you were all running?”

“Yeah.”

“Where did you start running from?”

“This ... room. It was white. Everyone was there.”

“You mean everyone you ran with?”

“Yeah.”

“Was Rose there?”

“Who?”

“Your wife, Rose,” Jack explained.

“... I don't know. What does she look like?”

“She's blonde, pretty.”

“... I don't remember her there.”

“That's okay. So you ran, you ran to the escape pods, and you got in one, yes?”

“I don't remember getting in anything ...” the Doctor muttered after a slight pause, and suddenly began to get very agitated. “I can't remember anything!”

“It's all right,” Jack said quickly. “It'll take time.”

“You have bits and pieces, that's normal,” Martha assured him. “You'll start remembering more if we keep talking about it.”

“Are you sure?” the Doctor asked, anxious.

She nodded. “Positive.”

He seemed to take absolute conviction from her words. “Okay.”

“Now go and get dressed, and I'll take you out,” Jack said, offering a smile.

The Doctor nodded, as if not quite sure what he was acknowledging. Then he left, like a wandering kitten trying to find its way home.

After he was out of sight, Jack looked at Martha and Mickey, frowning. “Something I didn't mention.”

“What?”

“This escape pod. He set off from the Shadow Proclamation and programmed to land right next to the Master's house,” he explained, moving his finger down the list as he addressed each point. “Then it calculated the time it would take, and asked him if he wanted to go into stasis. He accepted. Between there and here the pod ran out of power, and tried to revive him to tell him, but he didn't respond. Then it crashed. But my question is ...”

He pointed at the dates. Martha and Mickey both leant forward to get a closer look, not that the alien symbols were making much sense to them.

“14.1/07 to 20.8/07. If that's Universal time ...” He looked back at them, swallowing. “He was in the pod in suspended animation for twelve years.”

“But what does that mean?” Mickey wondered, frowning.

“I don't know,” Jack admitted. “But that's a hell of a long time to spend in stasis.”

“Could this have caused the amnesia?”  Martha asked quickly.

“Maybe. I don't know,” he replied, shrugging. “People who've spent a few years in stasis usually have a bit of retrograde amnesia, they call it stasis sickness, but this is the worst case I've ever seen. They tend to recover pretty quickly, though. I mean, we're talking hours, sometimes even twenty minutes.”

“So stasis sickness is an option,” Martha summarised.

“Possibly.”

“Jack?” the Doctor's voice suddenly came from across the Hub in a terrified squeak. “Help!”

Jack frowned, instantly forgetting the Black Box and running to his best friend. When he turned the corner, he burst out laughing, and then looked back at Mickey and Martha. 

“Wardrobe malfunction,” he explained, and then disappeared to help.

* * *

 

Jack had fully dressed the Doctor and took him outside onto the Plass, holding his good arm every step of the way.

They then began the walk to Jackie's house. With every step the Doctor was looking around with absolute wonder at the city of Cardiff, absolutely fascinated with everything from the Millennium Centre to the public bins. Jack maintained his firm hold, a little surprised at how terrified he was of losing the Doctor even in a place he knew so well.

They got to the road crossing and stopped to wait for the cars. Jack managed to convince himself to lax his grip slightly, looking sideward at the Doctor. He was staring at the hotel opposite where a family was sitting at a bench, the children running rampant.

Suddenly the Doctor started walking forward, right out into the path of a car. Jack yelped and launched forward, grabbing his waist and yanking him back as the car swerved and screeched, the horn blaring. The driver swore at them as he drove off.

“Doctor!” Jack gasped, alarmed. “Don't do that!”

“Do what?” the Doctor asked, confused.

“Walk out in the middle of the road!” Jack explained, not letting go of him. “That could have killed you!”

“Oh,” the Doctor realised, frowning as he watched the car that had almost hit him drive off into the distance. It was painfully apparent that he had absolutely no idea of the danger he'd just put himself in.

Jack heard a giggle from behind him, and he turned to find two amused teenage girls having seen what had happened. He glared at them, still holding onto the Doctor.

“Yeah, because having total amnesia is hilarious isn't it?” he spat maliciously.

They shut up after that, and Jack slipped his hand into the Doctor’s and gripped it tightly to make sure he wasn't going to bolt off again.

* * *

 

They reached Jackie's flat by lunchtime. 

Jack rang the doorbell, and within seconds Jackie opened it. The moment she saw the Doctor her face broke into a smile, filled with utter conviction.

“Hello, sweetheart. Come on in both of you.”

Jack gestured for the Doctor to enter first, but he hovered nervously by the door, glancing at Jack.

“Doctor, it’s okay,” he told him, his hand still holding the Time Lord’s. 

“I’m … scared,” the Doctor muttered, his eyes flickering between Jackie and Jack.

“Nothing to be scared of,” Jack assured him, stepping over the threshold to demonstrate it was perfectly safe. After a moment, the Doctor followed, and Jack shut the door. He tried to let go of the Doctor's hand once they were safe in the flat but the Time Lord kept a firm, nervous hold. Jack led him to the sofa and had to force him to sit down whilst Jackie just watched, staring at the Doctor.

“Doc, it's all right. This is Jackie. She's your wife's mom,” Jack told him gently. 

“You mean Rose? Blonde and pretty?” the Doctor asked.

Jack glanced at Jackie. He had warned her of what to expect before they'd come, but he could tell that the smile on her face was becoming more and more forced with every second that she looked at him, the edges of her eyes starting to become wet. “Yeah,” he eventually confirmed.

“So ... you're my ...”

“Mother-in-Law,” Jack supplied.

“Oh,” the Doctor muttered, just staring at Jackie as if he was trying to recognise her. He obviously didn't, so he turned his attention to the coffee table. “What is this?” he asked, pointing at the cup of tea.

“It's called tea, love,” Jackie said slowly and clearly, as though she were talking to a foreigner. “You like it.”

“Oh,” the Doctor said, and reached forward to take the cup with absolute care. He held it in both hands, his own suspense of anticipation and inevitable discovery apparent as he took a tentative sip ... “Oh!” he said again, this time in delight before he took a hearty one.

Jack looked at Jackie again, feeling sfae enough to let go of his hand. “Jackie, you said you had something for him?”

“What? Oh,” Jackie realised, tearing her watery eyes away from the bewildering sight of the Doctor. “Yeah.”

She left the room with a little more haste than required. Jack got up to follow, but the Doctor quickly stood up too.

“Nah, Doctor, stay here,” Jack advised.

The Doctor’s eyes widened. “But …”

“It’s fine,” Jack said. “Just sit down for a bit. Have some biscuits.” He pointed at the plate on the table.

“Oh,’ the Doctor murmured, and sat down again. 

Jack followed Jackie into a bedroom, where she was rummaging around in the bedside table, before she pulled out a few worn diaries from under the socks. 

“They're Rose's,” Jackie explained, handing them to Jack. “They're of their first couple of years together with Leah, she gave them to me to read last year.” 

He took them, and for a moment just gazed at her face. She was just about ready to tumble into unstoppable tears. “It's gonna be all right,” he assured her.

“I know I promised I wouldn't ask about Rose and the kids ...” Jackie began, starting to struggle to get her words out. “But where are they, Jack!?”

“Look, I dunno for sure, but I think they're fine from what I know,” Jack assured her quickly. “But hopefully this diary will help him remember them.”

“I don't like him like this,” she admitted, and the first tear escaped. “He should ... He should be fightin' with me, he should be arguin' and doing all that annoyin' stuff he does, not just sittin' there like a bloody plank of wood!”

“I know,” Jack agreed. “It's freaking us all out, but he just needs help and familiar faces right now. Then we can start getting him back, then Rose and the kids.”

“I ... I didn't think it was this b-bad,” she sobbed.

“I know,” was all Jack found himself saying, but he was pretty sure at this point in time even  _ that _ wasn’t making sense. Much like everything else right now. “Look, come out when you're ready. We don't want to upset him by us being upset.”

She nodded, wiping at her eyes. Her mascara began to run down her face as it started to get worse.

“It's gonna be all right,” Jack said yet again, fully aware he'd repeated that phrase around twenty times by now and each time he did it felt more and more pointless. “We'll sort this.”

* * *

 

When Jack and Jackie entered again the Doctor was still sat on the sofa, peering closely at all the different biscuits and trying each one individually with varying reactions. He saw them, and a big grin spread on his face as he held up a Custard Cream.

“This is nice,” he told them. “What is it?”

Jack couldn't resist a smile. The Doctor was grinning. It had been a while since he'd seen that.

“Custard Cream,” Jack supplied, dropping to sit down next to him. “Here, got something for you.”

He held out the diaries. The Doctor took them, opening one with curiosity.

“It's your wife's diaries,” Jack explained.

The Doctor flicked through it, the pages crammed full with neat, curvy writing.

“Just read it when you've got some time,” Jack continued. “Something might come back.”

“Okay,” the Doctor replied, putting the books down on the side for now while he went for another Custard Cream.

Jackie sat on the other side of him, just watching him eat the biscuit. Usually she'd rebuke him for getting crumbs all over her sofa, but this time she didn't. She let it happen. And pretty soon, he'd noticed her staring at him.

“I'm sorry, have I done something wrong?” he asked with the tone and expression of someone almost  _ begging _ her to say he hadn't.

“Oh no,” Jackie said sadly, smiling supportively at him before slowly, deliberately and carefully leaning forward to hug him, making sure he was fine with it every step of the way. “God, you're so much more polite like this. It's so bloody weird.”

“Sorry,” the Doctor said again, suddenly finding himself drowning in amongst a Jackie Tyler hug somewhere. “Should I be impolite instead?”

“Oh god no, not yet,” she replied, laughing. Somehow she seemed to hug him even tighter. “We'll look after you, sweetheart.”   



	4. Dear Diary 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a diary entry, new parents, the Doctor and Rose, attempt to look after their one-month-old daughter without tearing each other apart.

**18** **th** **November 2008 (Earth time) – Leah 1 month old**

_ Dear Diary, _

_ So here we are, one month into the weirdness. We're both really tired, irritated with each other and constantly hungry and it really didn't help last week when the Doctor slipped on one of Leah's toys and apparently broke his sternum ... _

* * *

 

“Leah, go to sleep,” the Doctor begged the baby girl.

“WAAAH!” she replied in a discontented scream.

“I know you're tired, Leah,” he continued. “You've been fed, changed, played with, bathed, hung up to dry and now you're rubbing your eyes, yawning and stretching. You're tired.”

“WAAAH!”

“The book says you're tired. The book never lies, Leah.”

“WAAAH!”

The Doctor decided a change of tact was in order, mentally flicking through his potential options. He very quickly settled on bribery. “Leah, I will do  _ anything _ when you're older. I will let you have whatever boyfriend you want; I will take you anywhere; I will give you unlimited shopping money if you just  _ go to sleep!”  _ he urged.

“WAAAH!”

“How about a pony? I’ll give you a pony! The TV says you love ponies! Go to sleep and Daddy'll get you a pony!”

“WAAAH!”

“ _ Two _ ponies!” the Doctor amended with enthusiasm. “Two ponies for you!”

“WAAAH!”

“Okay, not a pony. How about a motorbike? It's essentially the same thing as a pony, except it's got an engine.”

“WAAAH!”

He sighed. “Okay, I'll be straight with you, Leah. Me and Mummy are tired. Very tired. I mean crazy, barking mad tired. If we don't get some sleep soon we’re going to go insane, and we'll have to get put in a room with padded walls and you'll have to go to Uncle Jack. You don't want to go to Uncle Jack, do you? So go to sleep.”

“WAAAH!”

“Doctor!” Rose called from the next room.

“What?”

“I want to go to sleep!”

“WAAAH!”

“Don't you think I do too!?” the Doctor whined.

“But the book said she was tired!”

“The book is overrated!”

“WAAAH!”

“Did you try the pony thing?” Rose asked.

“Of course I did!” he snapped, irritated. “She's not interested!”

“Offer her  _ five  _ ponies, stupid!”

“Shut up!” He turned back to Leah, who was still screaming. He braced himself, rolling back his shoulders ... “Leah ...  _ five  _ ponies. You can have  _ five ponies.  _ Honestly. Five ponies, all for you. What d'you say?”

She suddenly quietened, settling down and yawning widely. The Doctor just stood there, holding his breath in anticipation. He couldn't make a sound. Even the slightest squeak would set her off again, like a sound-sensitive bomb.

She closed her eyes, and there was blissful silence for twenty, long and lovely seconds. The Doctor had almost forgotten what silence sounded like. He found he liked it.

He glanced at his exit, picking out a path through the scattered toys on the floor. Then he slowly, carefully, and quietly turned, creeping on tip toe through the toy-carpeted floor and out of the door. He didn't stop his cautious walk even after he'd closed the nursery door, tiptoeing across the corridor into his and Rose's bedroom. Even when he'd closed the door and reached the bed he tried to keep all noise to an absolute minimum.

He thought about changing, but then just pulled off his shoes, put them under the bed, climbed under the covers still fully dressed, and dropped his head directly face-down in the middle of the pillow.

“We owe her 655 ponies. Good night,” he said.

“Good night.”

They both closed their eyes. The TARDIS dimmed the lights, and there was blissful silence. Ten seconds passed.

“Rose.”

“What?”

“She's not making any noise.”

“She's asleep. Now you can go to sleep, idiot.”

“But ... What if she's not breathing?”

“Doctor. She's breathing. Go to sleep.”

“Okay,” he mumbled, reassured. “Night.”

“Night.”

Ten more seconds passed.

“Doctor,” Rose suddenly said.

“What?”

“What if there  _ is  _ somethin' wrong?”

They both opened their eyes to stare at each other from across the bed.

“... No,” the Doctor eventually dismissed. “She's fine.”

“Yeah,” Rose agreed, closing her eyes again. “Night.”

“Night.”

Ten seconds passed.

“Oh god, Doctor.”

“What?”

“I've got this really bad feelin' something's wrong, now.”

They both opened their eyes again.

“So have I,” the Doctor admitted, tense. “Maybe we should check on her.”

They both thought about that for a moment.

“... No,” Rose eventually dismissed. “We're overreactin'.”

“You're right,” the Doctor agreed, and closed his eyes again. “Night.”

“Night.”

Five seconds passed.

“I have to check on her!” the Doctor suddenly exclaimed, sitting up straight with the TARDIS lights switching back on. 

“Yes!” Rose responded, wide-eyed. “I've got this feelin'!”

“I know, so have I!” he said quickly, clambering out of bed.

“Oh god, she's dyin',  _ run  _ Doctor!”

“I am, I am!” he yelled back, bolting out of the door and across the corridor faster than a hurricane. He burst through the door and ran to the cot to check her, but unfortunately forgot to register the toys still scattered over the floor. He ran right on a ball rattle, went flying up in the air and came crashing face-down straight onto a wooden duck with a yelp of pain.

Instantly Leah woke up and started crying again.

“Doctor!!!” Rose yelled, annoyed.

He tried to get up, but he'd moved only an inch before gunshot-like pain ripped straight through his chest and he cried out, dropping back down again. 

“DOCTOR!”

“WAAAH!”

“Rose ...” he called softly, his voice seemingly whiny and pathetic in his ears. “I've fallen and I can't get up ...”

“What!?”

“I can't get up ...”

“If you're sayin' anythin' I can't hear you!”

“I CAN'T ...” he began to yell, but more pain burst into his chest and he choked, which only seemed to make it worse. “... Get up,” he finished in a pathetic wheeze.

“WAAAH!”

The door opened. “For god's sake Doctor when ... Why are you on the floor?”

“Fell over,” he breathed.

“Get up then.”

“I can't ..”

“WAAAH!”

“What d'you mean you can't?”

“What d'you  _ think _ I mean? I can't get up.”

“You're jokin'.”

“No.”

“Oh for God's sake!” she burst out, grabbing his arm and trying to pull him upright. The undivided scream of pain he gave at the movement made her drop him in alarm. “What the hell?”

“Ow,” he whined.

“WAAAH!”

* * *

 

“I don't believe this,” Rose sighed, staring at him lying in the infirmary bed with his chest bruised and swollen. 

“Me either,” he assured her, checking the scan as she handed the printout to him. “Ugh, fractured my sternum.”

“What does that mean?”

“I can't get up for at least a week.”

There was a harrowing silence as Rose stared at him, her eyes wide. “What did you say?”

He winced. “I err ... can't ... get up for a week.”

“You're jokin'.”

“Nope.”

“No, not a question. You  _ are  _ jokin'.”

“... No.”

“WHAT!?” she shrieked, nearly blowing out his eardrums. “You expect me to run around after Leah by myself whilst you bloody  _ lounge  _ about in bed for a  _ week!?” _

“... You'll have to feed me too,” he added, somewhat unhelpfully.

“Oh  _ great!”  _ she exclaimed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “So I've got  _ two  _ babies to deal with!”

“Well I'm sorry for checking our daughter to make sure she was all right!” he yelled.

“You could have at  _ least  _ looked where you were  _ bloody _ goin'!”

“Well if you'd cleaned up all the the toys this afternoon I wouldn't have tripped on them!!!”

_ “ _ So this is  _ my  _ fault!?”

“Yes!”

“That's unbelievable!!!”

“How is that unbelievable!?”

“You're trying to blame  _ me  _ for  _ you _ bein' so  _ dumb!  _ You're an asshole!”

“Likewise!”

“WAAAH!” Leah interrupted from afar.

“URGH!!!” Rose burst out in utter frustration, stamping her feet before storming out, slamming the door behind her.

The Doctor just watched her go, feeling extremely riled. That hadn't been his fault, and she was an idiot to think so. 

So much for children bringing you together. 

He sighed, laid back with his head on the pillow and within four minutes, for the first time for a month, he'd finally fallen into a deep, replenishing, completely guilt-free sleep.

* * *

 

_ Three days later... _

The Doctor was sat in the infirmary bed watching TV, one hand behind his head and the other in a bowl of cheese puffs, staring at  _ By the Light of the Asteroid _ intently.

_ “I'm so sorry Jaf'la!”  _ the woman sobbed.  _ “I can't lie to you anymore!” _

_ “Azhux? Sweetheart, what is it?” _

_ “I'm just not the Porfulaxian you think I am!”  _

_ “What are you trying to say!?” _

_ “I'm ... I'm ... Oh, Jaf'la, I'm ... I'm biogenous!” _

The Doctor gasped, the cheese puffs stopping halfway to his mouth as the cliffhanger theme began. “No way!” he exclaimed, grabbing for the remote and fast forwarding through the credits to the next episode, just as Rose came bursting in through the door, bringing all the cold air with her.

The Doctor looked at the mother of his child, standing there in the doorway holding a tray of food. Her blonde hair was everywhere, tangled and messy, her clothes dishevelled and dirtied. She had such severe eye-bags it looked like she'd been punched in the face twice and the expression on her face was nothing that represented any morsel of joy whatsoever.

“Hello, light of my life!” the Doctor exclaimed happily, smiling.

“Shut up!!!” she roared, storming over to the bed and slamming the tray she held down on the side table, the contents of it flying everywhere. “Here's your  _ bloody _ lunch!!!”

He watched her for a moment, his hand moving to the bowl of cheese puffs again. “What's wrong, Rose?” he asked in a completely smooth, calm and collected voice. “You seem a bit stressed.”

“Do I!?” she screamed full in his face.  _ “DO I!?” _

He flinched slightly. She hadn't cleaned her teeth in a while. “... Have a cheese puff!” he said eventually, holding out the bowl.

“I hope you die, stupid alien!!!” she screamed in return, swiftly turning on her heel and storming out of the door. The entire wall shook as she slammed it behind her.

The Doctor winced, waiting a good minute or so for the wall to stop shaking before he reached for the remote again, and hit play.

* * *

 

_ Four days later... _

“Leah, go to sleep!”

“WAAAH!” she responded.

_ “ _ Please _ , please!” _

“WAAAH!”

“Five ponies!”

“WAAAH!”

“Ten ponies!”

“WAAAH!”

“Rose! Rose! Help me!”

“Sorry, light of my life!” Rose responded happily, sitting in bed munching on some cheese puffs. “Can't hear you!”

* * *

 

_ I still think he did it on purpose. _

_ Rose x _


	5. Speaking In Tongues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Torchwood discover an unlikely talent of the amnesiac Doctor. Jack calls in Sarah to help, and then reminisces about time spent with the old Doctor.

Jack was woken at 7am by the sound of the Doctor screaming.

He rushed to the room immediately, dropping down the hole-in-the-floor to find him in the throes of another nightmare. He quickly roused him, hugging him tightly as the Doctor trembled in his grip, crying.

“Jack,” the Time Lord gasped, in tears once again.

“Yeah?” Jack asked softly, still holding him.

“I ... don't like sleeping.”

“I know,” Jack murmured.

“I don't want to ... to do it anymore.”

Jack sighed, impulsively kissing his forehead. “God, you're so broken aren't you,” he muttered. “We'll work something out, I promise. There might be a medicine we can give you.”

The Doctor didn't reply, staying firmly in his arms.

“Did you read any of the diaries?” Jack asked.

The Doctor nodded.

“Nothing come back, huh?”

The Doctor shook his head in response.

“Okay,” Jack breathed, trying not to sigh. “One day at a time. Let's teach you how to shave.”

* * *

“Hi, Sarah Jane. It's Jack. Look, we've got a problem, I think you can help ... The Doctor's turned up here with really bad amnesia ... Yeah can you come over? … Soon as you can ... Yeah, that'd be great ... See you in a few hours.”

Jack hung up, took a steely breath, and walked back into the kitchen just as the clock hit 9am where Mickey was at the worktop making some tea, and the Doctor was sat at the table, staring at the television. 

“Did you just call Sarah Jane?” Mickey asked.

Jack nodded. “She's driving over from Ealing now.”

“Jack,” the Doctor suddenly began, and Jack turned to see him frowning and pointing at the TV. “Isn't the Shadow Proclamation that thing the other day?”

“What?” Jack asked, following the Doctor's lead to the television. The universal news was on.

“Since when did we get universal news?” Mickey asked seriously.

“Hold on, shush,” Jack said quickly, holding up a hand.

_ “The Shadow Proclamation has been rocked today by the sudden death of one of their hierarchy. Last night at 6-78 universal time, a Shadow Architect was found dead in her chambers. The nature of her death has not been officially confirmed but first reports suggest the death is being treated as suspicious ...” _

“Oh wow,” Jack muttered.

“What did it say?” Mickey asked, unable to understand the language.

“There's been a suspicious death at the Shadow Proclamation,” the Doctor told him.

“Yeah,” Jack confirmed, and then frowned, stopping his train of thought instantly. “Wait a minute, you know Uniuxian?”

“Know what?” the Doctor asked, confused.

“The language they just spoke in, you understood it?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Jack glanced at Mickey, and then back at the Doctor. He dropped into the seat opposite him, leaning forward on the table.

“Parlez-vous français?” Jack asked slowly.

The Doctor frowned. “Oui ...?” he responded, as if he didn't quite know what he was saying.

Jack frowned and switched to Brazillian Portuguese. “Você consegue me entender agora? Qual é meu nome?”

“Sim, eu entendo, e seu nome é Jack,” the Doctor replied without hesitation.

“Kkaftk yakkgutuk ktaggka?” Jack asked, the dialect of the southern Stratos System.

“Ttakku,” the Doctor replied fluently.

Jack frowned, trying to recall a piece of Gallifreyan he knew. “Ei’joi,” he finally said.

“Jhu’afa’eon joi?” the Doctor asked, sincere.

“... Is that possible?” Mickey wondered, getting it instantly.

“Apparently,” Jack answered, gazing at the Doctor.

“What?” the Doctor asked.

“I think you still know every language.”

“Is that bad?”

“Oh no,” Jack assured him quickly. “It's just ... strange.”

“Oh, okay,” the Doctor replied, looking at Mickey still standing by the kettle, staring at him. “Can I have some of that tea stuff?”

Mickey instantly snapped to attention, blinking in surprise. “Oh, sure, Doctor,” he said, and pulled down another mug.

“What are we doing today?” the Doctor asked, looking back at Jack.

“I've got Sarah Jane coming over, she's an old friend of yours,” Jack told him. 

“Who?” the Doctor asked, confused.

“Sarah Jane Smith,” Jack reiterated. “You've known her for a very long time.”

“I can't remember that name.”

Jack sighed a little inside. “Don't worry about it. It'll come.”

* * *

“I didn't tell you everything on the phone,” Jack confessed as he walked Sarah Jane in the Hub just past lunchtime.

Sarah Jane caught his tone instantly. “What's left to tell me?”

Jack suddenly stopped walking, taking her arm to stop her mid-step. 

She turned to face him, inquisitive. “What, Jack?”

He swallowed, suddenly faltering. 

She rested a hand on his arm in comfort. “It's okay, you can tell me.”

“He's ... He didn't know where he was. He didn't know my name, or Martha's, or anyone's. He didn't know how to shower or shave and ... He doesn't even remember what Rose looks like. He didn't know he had kids, Sarah. He knows every language in the universe but didn't know what a Tardis is ...”

If Sarah Jane was shocked, she decided not to show it. She smiled instead, as a reassurance. “He'll be okay,” she said. “I've seen him at the brink of death after a mind-bending contest, energy bolts thrown at him, he's been tied to a Kraal table that nearly made his head explode ... Jack, this is nothing.”

“He's always okay,” Jack reiterated slowly.

Sarah Jane nodded. “Yes.”

“Okay,” Jack breathed, rolling back his shoulders, feeling very reassured. “Sorry.”

Sarah Jane nodded once more. “I know. But he's old boots, Jack. Remember that. How many times have you seen him rise from the dead?”

“Couldn't count ‘em.”

“Exactly,” she replied, affirming that smile. “Shall we see him now?”

* * *

The Doctor was sat in the conference room reading a diary when they entered. He looked up, looking at Sarah Jane, and then at Jack.

“This is Sarah Jane?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” Jack replied, glancing at Sarah Jane.

She smiled at the Doctor. “You call me Sarah.”

He nodded, got out of his seat and extended his good hand promptly. “It's nice to meet you, Sarah. I'm the Doctor.”

She took his hand without hesitation to shake it. “It's lovely to meet you too. Would you like to have a chat?”

“Okay,” he replied, dropping back down into his seat automatically. She took the one opposite, and cupped his hand gently in her own. He looked down at his hand in hers, obviously slightly bewildered, but she didn't let go.

“When you look at me ... Do you remember anything?” was her first question, smiling at him.

“No,” he said, staring at her smile.

“Do you remember where we met?”

“No.”

She tilted her head to gaze at him – straight into those utterly empty eyes. “... Do you remember your previous bodies?”

“My what?”

“Your regenerations. Do you remember how many bodies you've had?”

“What's a regeneration?”

Jack only just about stopped himself gasping. He had to force himself to steel his expression and keep the Doctor comfortable, so he ended up needing to do something with his arms and he folded them instead.

Sarah Jane hadn't reacted, her voice just becoming softer and softer with every progressive word. “Do you remember what species you are?”

The Doctor just frowned. “Species? Aren't I a solian?”

“No. You're ... You're a Gallifreyan, a Time Lord,” Sarah Jane said gently, but even as Jack watched he could tell her tough exterior was slowly but surely melting away at the sight of the utterly clueless Doctor.

“So I'm an alien?”

“Yes.”

“Shouldn't I be your enemy?”

“Oh no, oh, goodness no,” Sarah Jane stumbled out quickly, re-tightening her grip on his hand. “You're very special to us.”

“Why?” he asked, genuinely puzzled. “And I look just like you. Why am I different?”

“You have a different internal system to us, and you can regenerate, which means if you're sick or injured to the point you can't get better you can regenerate into a new body to fix yourself. We can't do that.”

“Oh,” the Doctor murmured, narrowing his eyes in thought. “Is Rose a Time Lord too?”

“No.”

“I reproduced out of my species?” he asked. Jack noticed he said it strangely, as though he was shocked at that – almost repulsed. Like Rose was some sort of worm ...

Sarah Jane glanced at Jack’s changing face, and decided not to linger. “Yes. But you have a thing that connects you to her, it's called bonding. Do you remember that?”

“No ...?”

“Can you feel it?” Jack suddenly asked, stepping forward.

The Doctor frowned again. “What does it feel like?”

“Like ...” Jack mused, trying to remember what the Doctor had told him all those years ago. “Like she's in your heart – a part of it. It's like a rope tying your hearts together. The more distance there is between you the tighter the rope becomes, the less slack there is, and the more it feels like something's going to rip out of your chest with the pull. When the bond breaks the rope tugs too hard and rips out your heart. You physically need her, every bit of her ... It's like the most love you could ever feel for anything multiplied a thousand times.”

The Doctor closed his eyes, seemingly searching for something of that description. He stayed still for a while as Jack and Sarah Jane gazed at him, waiting for the answer ...

The Doctor's eyes opened. “I feel nothing like that.”

Jack had to leave the room.

* * *

He'd gone to his office and shut the door to try and block the world out. He dropped down into his chair, staring across the room to a point on the floor. Thoughts rolled through his head for three minutes straight. He didn't move an inch.

He finally snapped out of it, looking down at his desk. He pulled out a drawer, reached in, and drew out the half-empty bottle of whiskey he kept handy for days like this. He gazed at it for a moment, but ended up putting it back into the drawer and closing it again, dropping his head in his hands.

Someone knocked on his door. 

“Come in,” he muttered dully.

“Jack?” It was Martha. 

He looked up through his fingers. “Afternoon,” he murmured.

“Not going well with Sarah Jane?” she supposed.

“Nope,” Jack surmised, dropping his hands on the table. “D'you know what day it is tomorrow?”

The question caught her off-guard. “What?”

“It's Rose's birthday,” Jack told her, and suddenly laughed. “She's the only woman in the world who has no idea how old she is. Time travelling can totally screw birthdays up.”

Martha just smiled, taking the chair on the other side of his desk. She was five months pregnant now, with the surprise Mickey baby. The Doctor was originally going to help with the delivery. Jack didn't even know if the Doctor knew what a baby  _ was _ right now, never mind how to deliver one.

Martha smiled sadly at him. “She's probably fine. Her, Leah, Alex and Kiana. They're fine.”

“You don't know that,” Jack muttered.

“Her and the Doctor have been bonded for five years, Jack. She's learnt from the best. And you told me the other day – this isn't what happens if Rose dies. And besides, the Doctor wouldn't let her die. They all protect each other in their family, you've seen the hard times for yourself.”

Jack nodded, finally looking at her for more than two seconds. “I bet Rose will walk in that front door in a week with the kids and a bottle of potion to fix the Doctor saying the Doctor managed to get himself caught in a malfunctioning psychograft.”

“And then Jackie'll come, her and the Doctor'll get into an argument and she'll slap him,” Martha added, laughing.

“Yeah,” Jack snorted. “Then he'll spend the entire day hiding from her in the Weevil cell again.”

“Then he'll cook dinner!” Martha giggled.

“Oh god, d'you remember that, the roast?”

“How could I forget it?”

“The potatoes were completely cemented to the pan and he tried solvent!” Jack recalled, unable to stop laughing.

“We all had so much wine we were drunk by seven o'clock ...”

“Yeah, yeah, we were all so drunk we watched teleshopping on rolling repeat for three hours.”

“You bought those crystal glasses!” Martha suddenly remembered, struggling to find words between her laughs.

Jack burst out laughing again at the mere thought of that. “I still have them. Oh! D'you remember his birthday the night before Rose found out she was pregnant with Alex?”

“Didn't you wake up in the bathtub?” Martha wondered.

“Wearing absolutely nothing,” Jack confirmed.

“No way ...!”

“God, I  _ wish  _ I could remember how we got there.”

“Actually, you probably don't,” Martha giggled. “You know, I wouldn't be surprised if this entire thing was a scam. He's fine and he's just putting it on for some reason.”

Jack face fell quite abruptly as the laughter quickly died. “... Yeah,” was all he responded to that.

“Hey, c'mon, it's only been two days,” Martha reminded him. 

Jack sighed. “I know. I just need to know Rose and the kids are okay.”

“They  _ are,”  _ Martha replied strongly. “Now let's stop moping and help him. What's next on your agenda after Sarah Jane?”

“I was gonna take him to the supply stores,” Jack replied. “See if he can identify some of the alien weapons and artefacts down there.”

“Good idea,” Martha complimented. “Do you need any help?”

“No ... Hey, you know, tell you what. You and Mickey have the day off, we've got nothing on. No one else is in today. I'd like to focus on the Doctor.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yep.”

“Okay,” Martha replied, nodding as she pushed herself out of the chair. “See you tomorrow.”

* * *

Sarah Jane left Torchwood at 3pm, having not found a morsel of memory from the Doctor. She had given Jack a big hug of reassurance, seemingly as compensation.

“These things take time, don't expect everything,” she had told him seriously. “Call me if you need me.”

“She’s nice,” was all the Doctor said after she'd left.

“Yeah, she is isn't she,” Jack agreed, glancing at him. “Hey, I've got a treat for you. You'll love this.”

“What?” the Doctor asked.

“Just come!” Jack said, taking his wrist to pull him to the supply stores. He did feel strangely optimistic about it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Você consegue me entender agora? Qual é meu nome? - Can you understand me now? What's my name?   
> Sim, eu entendo, e seu nome é Jack. - Yes, I can, and your name is Jack.   
> Kkaftk yakkgutuk ktaggka? - What colour is the table?  
> Ttakku – White  
> Ei’joi – I'm sorry  
> Jhu’afa’eon joi? - Why are you sorry?


	6. The Bounty Hunter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and the Doctor try to re-enact old times. Torchwood gets an unwelcome visitor.

“Welcome to paradise!” Jack exclaimed, pushing open the door.

The Doctor just stared for a moment at the room. Metal, rusting, filled with cobwebs and stacked high with mismatched crates filled a menagerie of various objects. He took a step forward, frowning slightly as he looked around.

“What is this place?” he asked.

“Storage,” Jack responded, grinning. “Brilliant, right?”

The Doctor took another step, towards an open crate. He peered inside. “Is it?”

“Oh, come on,” Jack replied, not losing his grin. “This is playtime.”

“How so?” the Doctor wondered, picking out a cubed silver device the size of a dice and looking it over.

“We used to spend our time together down here,” Jack explained, far too excited to be disheartened just yet. “When you could escape from Rose and I could escape from Ianto. Just for a couple of hours.”

“Doing what?” 

“Going through stuff,” Jack continued. “It was like our big toy box.”

“I don't remember that.”

“It's okay,” Jack responded automatically, giving him a smile. It was a few moments before he realised the Doctor was staring at him. “What?”

“Why do you always do that?” he asked, tilting his head like an inquiring dog. 

“Do what?”

“Say it's okay.”

“Oh!” Jack realised. “I'm just saying it's fine you don't remember.”

“But ... isn't that the point?” the Doctor wondered. “To remember?”

“Well, yeah, ideally, but you'll do it at your own pace,” Jack replied seriously.

“But everyone's doing it.”

“We're just trying to make you feel comfortable.”

“But ... Everyone ... Everyone keeps smiling at me, but it's so ... It's weird. Their mouths smile but their eyes don't. Like it's really not okay. I mean, I know I'm supposed to be remembering things and when I don't they just ... smile. Smile while their eyes cry.”

Jack sighed, reaching forward to rest a comforting hand on his arm. “Seriously, would you prefer I punched you every time you can't remember something?”

The Doctor sighed, dropping his head to the floor. “Be about as much use,” he muttered.

Jack suddenly laughed, almost hysterically. The Doctor looked up again sharply, a little alarmed at the unexpected outburst, but Jack was still laughing.

“My god, you know who I just heard?” he explained, still laughing. 

The Doctor's eyes widened. “You mean ...?”

Jack nodded, bringing his laughter to an end as he squeezed the Doctor's good shoulder. “Maybe the memory's not so far away, huh?” he said, letting go of his shoulder and pointing at the cube the Doctor was still holding. “This one's brilliant. It's an atmospheric defragmenter, a ...”

“Crytos Limited Edition Generation 500 XZ with NCSDPL adaptor,” the Doctor finished, before leaning forward to peer in the box in front of him. “... Where's the free keyring?”

Jack just stared at him for a moment, absolutely blown away. “Um, what did you say?”

“This is the version with the free keyring, right?” the Doctor asked, looking up at him. “There are three marks on the side on the keyring version.”

“Yeah ... lost it. Wait,” Jack garbled out, reaching to the box again and pulling out another alien device, handing it to him. “What's this?”

The Doctor only looked at it for about three seconds. “An isomorphic Taxillian D20 shower gun with triangulation sight.”

“Jesus,” Jack breathed, staring at him. “Come on, over here ...”

He pulled the Doctor by the arm through to a box at the end of the room, standing there looking separated and lonely from the rest. A big white sticker was on the side of it, big black felt pen marking the box as  **UNIDENTIFIED.**

“Here,” Jack said, pulling out one of the three objects inside. It was a slim silver round disc with a few flashing lights on top. “What's this?”

This time he looked at it for five seconds. “A Jaxt electronic AI remote unit.”

“What's that do?”

“Remotely controls ServeBots,” the Doctor replied.

“Holy ...” Jack breathed, too shocked to even finish his blasphemy. “Okay, this one?” He held up what seemed to be an alien helmet of some kind. 

“Polonix reinforced energy shield generation four police helmet. No ... generation five,” the Doctor corrected himself quickly.

“And this?” he held out a thin white tube.

“Looks like a propagated wavelength receiver.”

“What's that do?”

“Gets the radio,” the Doctor replied, giving it a shake and pressing his ear to it. Nothing came out. “I think the battery's gone. You should get the 420 edition. That's got the unlimited battery.”

He held out the propagated wavelength receiver for Jack to take back. Jack did, slowly, just staring at the device. There was complete silence.

An extremely loud siren suddenly burst out through the Hub, the entire room flashing red. 

The Doctor looked up, alarmed. “Jack!?” he wailed, reaching out for his friend and finding an arm to hold onto for reassurance.

“Intruder alarm,” Jack grated quickly, pulling out his gun. “Follow me very closely, okay? Keep behind me at all times, and stay quiet.”

“O-okay,” the Doctor replied, stammering with fear. He kept a hand on Jack's arm, refusing to let go as the Captain moved out of the door, checking his gun was loaded on the way. He edged up the stairs and pressed himself against the wall, peering around the corner.

There didn't seem to be anyone there, but the siren was still wailing. He gestured for the Doctor to stay where he was, and then boldly stepped out into the open.

Suddenly the sirens abruptly stopped, but still Jack could hear nothing of anyone else being there. He took a step forward with his gun raised, careful not to make a single sound. Then another step, and then another.

He walked a firm ten paces, but still there was no one or nothing to be seen. He didn't lower his guard though. He would get to the scanner and check the area first ...

“JACK!” the Doctor suddenly screamed. Jack whirled back around in an instant, just in time for a completely unfamiliar alien in full leather armour to whack him full around the head with the butt of a long, heavy gun. Barely knowing what had just happened, Jack collapsed to the floor, unconscious.

* * *

 

“No!” the Doctor yelled as Jack hit the floor. He just stood shock still as the alien that had come out of nowhere slowly lowered his gun, and then turned to the Doctor. It just smiled at the sight of him, raising the gun again and pointing it straight at the gallifreyan. The Doctor didn't react.

“Are you Echo?” it asked in a deep, gruff voice, its thin red eyes drilling into his.

“... W-What?” the Doctor asked fearfully.

“Simple enough question. Are you Echo?”

“I ... I don't know what you mean,” the Doctor said quickly.

“I ain't got time to play games,” the alien spat, walking forward with the gun still held aloft – inches from the Doctor's face. The Doctor still didn't flinch at it whatsoever, just looking at the gun curiously. “I know Echo is here. Where is it?”

“You ... Do you mean echoes as in the reflection of sound?” the Doctor asked.

The alien suddenly looked appalled, but somehow also amused, as though he couldn't quite believe the Doctor had the nerve to say that to him. “... Are you really clever or just really thick?”

The Doctor didn't know what to say to that at all, his eyes flicking to Jack still lying on the floor. “... I don't know,” he ended up whining.

The alien sighed, brandishing his gun again. “You know, normally I get a way quicker answer than this.”

“... I'm sorry,” the Doctor replied, not knowing what else to say.

The alien sighed heavily, pulling something out of his pouch and pointing it at the Doctor. He pressed a button and the device began to beep in a rush of electronic frenzy, before finally pinging. The alien checked the screen ... and suddenly his eyes widened dramatically.

“K'ashi shintaka'e,” the alien swore, staring at him in horror. “What's your name?” he asked quickly.

“... The Doctor,” the Doctor answered, eyes again flickering to the unconscious Jack.

The alien continued to stare at him, slowly raising the scanning device to his lips. He flicked a switch, and began to speak into it slowly and measuredly, his gun still at the Doctor's face and his eyes still fixed on the Doctor's.

“This is Kigha, calling from Sol 3. I have located the Doctor. I repeat, I have located the Doctor.”

He waited, but nothing came back.

“I repeat, this is Kigha calling from Sol 3, are you receiving me?”

Nothing came back.

“For Kichan's sake, why isn't this fulaking piece of lint'so working?” he grated, shaking the device.

“Maybe if you went overground,” the Doctor suggested helpfully.

“Yeah, thanks,” the alien grated, shoving the device back into his pouch. “All right,” he sighed, gesturing with his gun. “You're coming with me, Doctor.”

“But ... I don't want to,” the Doctor protested, standing still.

“Don't you know what this thing is!?” the alien grunted, waving his gun to indicate his point.

“It's a Cha'sun 6020.5 sun-charged rifle with burst assault and sniper switch. Also with some modifications of a guided sight and thermal detection,” the Doctor replied without hesitation. “Are you learning, then?”

“What?”

“That's the beginner's option package. Are you still learning?”

“No!” the alien responded quickly – a little too quickly. “I just ... Oh, shut up! If you don't follow me I'll shoot you!”

The Doctor suddenly looked very frightened. “What? Why would you do that?”

“Err, because I have a gun, and you're starting to piss me off.”

“But why would you point it at another person?”

“To make them do what you want!” the alien replied, utterly exasperated. “Just follow me already!”

“Else you'll shoot me?”

“Yes!”

“But...”

“Shintaka'e chas fu!” the alien exclaimed impatiently, raised the gun and whacked the Doctor around the head.

* * *

 

“Doctor? Doctor, wake up,” Jack's voice said in the murkiness, and the Doctor opened his eyes slowly, his head pounding in pain. He looked up at Jack who was kneeling by him. No one else was around, and he instantly relaxed.

“Jack,” he whined.

“S'alright, you're safe. I got him just as he hit you,” Jack told him patiently. “How are you feeling?”

The Doctor dared to sit up, but even as he rose his head began to spin and he dropped down to his elbow, blinking a few times to try and straighten things out. He held a hand to his forehead, and found blood came away with his fingertips. “I'm bleeding,” he realised, staring at blood on his fingers in wonder.

“Don't worry, I'll clean you up,” Jack said. “Nothing serious. You're always getting whacked around the head by stuff. Martha thinks your skull must be made of concrete to last this long.”

Jack laughed at his own joke, but the Doctor just looked confused. “Wouldn't that be too heavy for my neck?”

Jack just rolled his eyes at that, getting to his feet and helping the Time Lord up in the process. “So literal. Let's get you to the med-bay.”

“What about you?” the Doctor asked, grasping onto Jack with both hands to try and stay upright. “He hit you too?”

“Oh, my head really  _ is  _ made of concrete,” Jack assured him, and walked him to the medbay. On the route they walked around a strange lump on the floor covered by a sheet of tarpaulin with a stain of red that was slowly creeping out from the edges into a large puddle on the floor.  

They reached the med-bay and Jack guided him to sit on the table. The Doctor waited patiently, still holding his head as Jack hunted in the drawers.

“Doesn't Martha do this?” the Doctor wondered.

“She does the more clever stuff. I've been trained for first aid on the battlefield, a hit head is no problem,” Jack assured him, finally finding the box he needed and pulling it out of the drawer. “You just got a bit stunned. Nothing serious.”

“You've been in a war?” the Doctor realised.

“Many, many wars. So have you,” Jack said off-handedly, finding some wipes to dab his bloody forehead.

“Have I?”

“Many, many wars,” Jack repeated, a lot quieter this time before he suddenly raised his voice again. “Did that bounty hunter say anything to you?”

“Bounty hunter?” the Doctor echoed.

“Oh, sorry, yeah. He was a bounty hunter. Did he say anything to you?”

“He scanned me and tried to communicate with someone. But he couldn't get through and wanted me to go with him,” the Doctor replied, frowning. “Oh, and he kept asking if I was an echo.” 

Jack suddenly stiffened, pausing in his dabbing. “Echo? He said Echo?”

“Yeah. I thought an echo was the reflection of sound. Does it mean something else?”

“Geez,” Jack grated, tilting his head to try and recall something. “The reign of Echo ...”

“What's that?”

“It's what the piece of paper said, the one I gave to you the night you disappeared. It said ... the reign of Echo will begin.”

The Doctor suddenly flinched quite abruptly, his hand snapping to his head. 

Jack drew back instantly, concerned. “What's wrong? Did I touch your wound too hard?”

“I th-think so,” the Doctor replied, stumbling slightly in his words before looking up again. “S-sorry.”

“Oh no, my fault. Sorry,” Jack assured him, and finished cleaning him up. “Now, go to bed, we've had enough excitement for one day.”

The Doctor's eyes widened. “But I ...”

“Go to bed,” Jack reinforced. “I'm gonna be right out here, and I’ll keep checking you. Nothing's gonna happen to you.”

The Doctor began to shake, as though he were suppressing tears. So Jack took him into a comforting hug,  holding him tightly for quite a while until the shaking subsided and the Doctor drew away, nodding firmly as though he'd just made the biggest decision of his life.

“Okay,” he muttered, got up, and left the room. Twenty seconds later, the hatch door of Jack's room closed. 

Jack waited for two minutes, anticipating the Doctor to come back out again at any minute. But he didn't. So Jack got up off of the table and walked back into the main Hub, straight to the tarpaulin. He drew it back from the corner, flinching slightly as he did so.

There the alien lay exactly as he had died. His hands were still clenched around the handle of his own sword that he'd put through his own stomach. A form of Harakiri, the mark of the captured universal bounty hunter to save face before death. A universal bounty hunter on the hunt for Echo, who he had traced to here.

Jack bit his lip. He had nowhere to take the Doctor for safety. He'd have to up the defences of the Hub, just in case there were anymore.

The blood of the bounty hunter was still creeping towards him. Even though the Doctor had probably seen numerous bodies like this, many in even worse states, Jack  _ still  _ didn't want his own Doctor to see it. Like a naïve child. In many ways he was.

He cleaned it up, every last drop of blood he could see, and then went to bed.


	7. Dear Diary 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a diary entry, Rose describes Leah’s first encounter with snow.

**7** **th** **February 2009 (Earth time) – Leah 4 months old**

_ Dear Diary, _

_ Today was great, Jack called us this morning saying it had snowed in Cardiff last night, and Leah's never seen snow before ... _

* * *

 

The Doctor woke up, and instantly felt confused.

He opened his eyes, one at a time, wondering what on Gallifrey was different about today. He was in his and Rose's room, in bed, still fully dressed – that was normal. His arm was around Rose, who was fast asleep, snoring. That was normal.

“Rose,” he whispered, shaking her. “Rose. Are you awake?”

“No,” she murmured, turning over to bury her head in his chest, and then suddenly opened her eyes to stare at him. “... Do you feel that?”

“What?”

“Something's ... different.”

“Yes,” he agree. “D’you know what's different?”

There was a very long pause, Rose' face slowly becoming more and more blank until she suddenly gasped, straightening up. “Leah!”

The Doctor's jaw dropped, and he quickly scrambled over to grab the baby monitor Jack had given them for Christmas on the bedside table, hitting up the volume and holding it between his and Rose's ears. They listened intently, only to hear the sound of rhythmic, calm breathing of Leah sleeping like a baby.

“Oh my god,” Rose realised, hand over her mouth. 

“It's 9am,” the Doctor added, checking the clock. “It's ... It's 9am,” he repeated, almost disbelieving his own eyes.

“She slept through the night! Oh God!” she cried in utter joy, slamming her lips onto his in an impulsive snog.

When they both drew back for air, both of them were utterly stunned at what had just happened.

“My god,” Rose muttered as she realised ... “How long has it been since we ...?”

“Months,” he replied.

“All right,” she said, nodding to herself. Then, with the energy acquired from a full night's sleep and without even a single word exchanged between them, Rose was removing his shirt and throwing it at the wall in a fit of spontaneous passion. There wasn't even any consultation when she completely undressed him, and he just laid there on the bed, utterly naked and feeling a little bit like a surprised tortoise that had just been flipped onto its back.

She swung her leg over to straddle him, still completely clothed. Very quickly it became obvious that this time she wasn't in it for herself, she was far most interested in him – and from past experiences  he knew this didn't mean at all that the ball was in his park. Quite the opposite, in fact. She was going to make this  _ agonising. _

She started  _ really _ getting to work then, and he could do nothing but occasionally gasp and beg and try to grab her in desperation, but he was pinned down underneath her, his arms included. It carried on for a while – she liked it that way. She liked drawing it out for him; making it the most painfully slow but always in the end the most unbelievably satisfying experience every single damn time. 

He was a Gallifreyan, Gallifreyans didn't feel pleasure – at least, not to the massive extent humans did. One finger in the right place on her fragile human body made her quite literally explode, but with him it took work and skill to take make him feel that sort of high ... and she was slowly but very surely getting it down to an art-form. She was  _ determined  _ to, and she was only going to get better. He wasn't sure if he looked forward to or dreaded that.

He knew she loved torturing him like this. She liked experimenting with him to discover more and more about him and what ticked his boxes. He didn't even dare to tell her about his quite easily accessible g-spot, because she would  _ massacre  _ him with that fountain of sadistic pleasure she had that he had  _ seriously  _ not anticipated when he first blown up Henrik’s.

She was really, really going for it, even more than usual. She was taking him to the brink, as electric coursed through his entire body at her touch; his skin hot and his body trembling ...

“Rose!” he gasped out, unable to control it as she went faster, and faster, and...

Rose's phone rang.

“Hold on,” she muttered, pecking him a kiss before clambering off of him.

“No, no,” the Doctor protested, holding out his hands to try and pull her back, but she already had her phone in hand. “No!”

“Hello?”

“Rose!”

“Shut up, Doctor, I'll finish in a minute ... Yeah, Jack? … No, I'm free ...”

“No, she isn't!” the Doctor squeaked.

“No, he can wait ... Haha, very funny. What is it?”

The Doctor had reached desperation. He strayed a hand down to finish the job himself but Rose quickly grabbed it with her free hand. 

“No, Doctor,” she said seriously, and then turned her attention back to the phone. “Sorry, Jack, it's what? … Oh! I'll tell him.” She looked at the Doctor. “It's snowin'.”

“Err, no it isn't!” he insisted, nodding down his body.

“No, in Cardiff,” she clarified, grinning.

“So!?”

“Leah hasn't seen snow yet.”

“Yeah, yeah, we'll take her, can you please ...”

“Yeah, we'll see you in a bit ...” Rose continued down the phone, ignoring him. “Thanks ... Bye!” She hung up, made a very long time of putting the phone away, and finally after many painful seconds she looked at him, grinning cheekily. “... Where was I?”

“ROSE!” he yelled, and she just laughed before finally finishing him off. He cried out in a combination of relief, pleasure and utter exaltation, for a few seconds afterwards just laid there panting with his eyes closed. “I hate you,” he finally breathed.

“You love me,” she corrected, kissing him again before jumping out of bed and searching for some warm clothes. “Let's go to Cardiff.”

“What, now?” he whined, still panting.

“Yes, now,” she insisted, and threw a pair of boxers at his head.

* * *

 

“Doctor, I think she's got enough layers on,” Rose said seriously as the Doctor wrapped a scarf around the four-month-old girl, who was lying on the bed looking like the Michelin Man with her legs and arms stuck out, barely able to move. 

“Just want her to be warm,” the Doctor insisted, checking the scarf was all wrapped around several times and tucked into her coat.

Rose watched the little girl's big brown eyes flicker around the room, looking somewhat confused. “Doctor, it's just Cardiff, it's not the Arctic.”

“I know, I know,” the Doctor muttered, finally taking the girl into both arms, holding her at arm's length. “There, Leah. If you get cold then just ... wave your arms at me, okay?”

Rose's brow furrowed. “Not sure if she can do that.”

The Doctor ignored that, putting Leah down into the pushchair, strapping her in before turning to Rose. “We're ready!”

* * *

 

They took Leah out of the Hub, where several other families were playing in the snow. They found a spare spot and the Doctor parked the pushchair, kneeling down next to it.

“Hey Leah, look, snow!” the Doctor enthused, pointing at the white stuff on the ground. 

“Doh,” Leah suddenly said, looking at him with a smile.

“Yeah, snow!” the Doctor replied happily, grinning. “See, snow is precipitation in the form of ice crystals. It originates in clouds when temperatures are below the freezing point, which is zero degrees Celsius or thirty-two degrees Fahrenheit. To form ice crystals, the water vapour in the atmosphere condenses directly into ice without going through the liquid stage, so once an ice crystal has formed, it absorbs and freezes additional water vapour from the surrounding air, growing into a snow crystal or snow pellet, which then falls to Earth. Great, isn't it?”

Leah stared at him blankly as Rose just rolled her eyes, smiling.

“And the  _ other  _ fascinating thing about snow is that  _ technically  _ it's a mineral! Because a mineral is defined as a naturally occurring homogeneous solid, inorganically formed, with a definite chemical composition and an ordered atomic arrangement. So if we look at ice, which little bits of snow, we know that ice is naturally occurring, homogeneous, formed inorganically, and has an ordered atomic structure. Ice has a definite chemical composition, with hydrogen and oxygen atoms bonding in a specific manner. So there you go! Snow is a mineral!”

Leah continued to stare at him blankly.

“Doctor,” Rose said, struggling not to laugh. “Shut up and let's make a mineral man.”

“Rightiho!” the Doctor enthused, taking Leah out of her pushchair and sitting crossed-legged in the snow, putting Leah in his lap. He carefully reached  forward to begin gathering snow into a pile. It was around that point he noticed a lot of people seemed to be staring at him.

“Rose,” he began in a mutter to her, “why's every one staring at me?”

“Because you're sittin' in the snow in a suit and converse,” she replied, gathering up some snow in massive bright pink fur-lined waterproof triple-thick gloves.

“Oh,” he realised. Then he shrugged, and continued gathering snow to put into a pile. 

The snowman began to take shape very quickly. Leah watched with undying attention, occasionally belting out, “doh!” and laughing for apparently no reason. The Doctor could tell she wanted to help so halfway through he got up and held her upright in front of him, encouraging her to pick up some snow. With four-month-old clumsiness she did, and looked incredibly proud of the tiny snow pile she had created. 

“Well done!” Rose enthused like it was the greatest thing ever to have been created in the history of the universe.

“Fahs,” Leah replied, then pulled away from her Dad's hands and toddled unsteadily across the snow.

“Doctor!” Rose cried, her hand going to her mouth. “She's walkin'!”

The Doctor just laughed, filled with utter joy at the sight of his little girl walking, if but a little awkwardly towards her mother. Halfway she stumbled and fell down onto her rump, and for a moment just sat there looking a bit surprised at what had just happened, and then burst into tears.

Rose just laughed, gathering Leah up into her arms and holding the girl tightly. “Aww, well done, I love you.”

“Uv voo,” Leah replied with the tears instantly gone, and looked around at her still elated dad. “Dadda, uv voo.”

The Doctor's jaw dropped, as did Rose. He raised a hand to point at her, staring at Rose. “Did she just...?”

“Ahhh!” was all Rose could muster as the excitement of the situation overwhelmed her. She kissed her daughter and squeezed her tightly in her little puffy pink coat. “Love you!”

The Doctor was already beside her, both parents now hugging her in tandem. They must have looked insane to everyone else but neither of them cared.

* * *

 

_ We finished the snowman and the Doctor took a picture of me and Leah standing by it.  _

_ Best day ever. _

_ Rose x _


	8. Failing Faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Torchwood discover something in the Doctor when they deep scan him. Jack begins to lose faith.

_ “More uncertainty at the Shadow Proclamation today as another surprise death occurs. Last night a member of the hierarchy was discovered dead in the dining area. The Shadow Proclamation has not released any form of statement and are refusing to acknowledge the deaths except to their inner circle. The deaths are said to be being treated as suspicious.” _

“Wow, d'you think it's murders?” Mickey asked.

“Sounds like it,” Jack replied in a murmur, staring at the the TV. After a moment he took a side-glance at the Doctor who was just staring into his cup of tea in silence. It had been a long night again. The Doctor had woken up at 3am this time and had refused to go back to sleep. It was starting to get ridiculous and Jack was beginning to become very tired.

“Morning!” Martha enthused as she walked in, smiling. She was only met with an eager response from Mickey and a murmur of greeting from Jack and the Doctor. Her eyes panned over them, sitting there looking tired and dejected. She moved over to the Doctor, taking the seat next to him. “Doctor?”

“... Yeah?” he asked, looking up.

“How are you feeling?”

“Not good,” he replied, his head down.

“What's wrong? Shoulder?”

He nodded.

“Get into the med-bay and I'll take a look, okay?”

The Doctor nodded, got up, and left without another word. Martha looked at Jack questioningly.

“We had a long night,” Jack muttered.

“What happened?”

“You know I took him to storage? He couldn't remember what we'd done there – not a clue. But then he identified a lot of objects, even the ones in the unidentified box.”

“What do you mean by identified?” Martha asked.

“I'm pretty sure I could've asked him for the serial number.”

“Oh,” Martha realised, hand over mouth.

“Not just that, halfway through a bounty hunter broke into the Hub. He was looking for something called Echo. He knocked me out and nearly took the Doctor with him. The Doctor got knocked out too but I sorted it and he went to bed. Then the Doctor woke up at 3am screaming.”

Martha frowned. “Wait. A bounty hunter?”

Jack nodded. “I'm gonna have to up security, and do lockdowns during the night. If that bounty hunter traced his target to here then loads more might be on the way. I've told everyone to keep a loaded gun nearby. You should too.”

Martha ignored the latter comment. “What happened to the bounty hunter?”

“Harakiri,” Jack muttered. “It's a code ... A code amongst universal bounty hunters. If they're caught, the only option is harakiri.”

Martha nodded and moved on. “The Doctor's still having nightmares, then?”

Jack sighed. “It's getting worse. He was practically convulsing on the floor last night. It took even longer to wake him up this time.”

“Does he remember the nightmare yet?”

“No.”

“Okay. One thing at time. Let's get to the med-bay ... And Jack,” she added, gazing at him. “Stick with it.”

Jack just nodded.

* * *

 

The scan revealed the Doctor's shoulder was healing fast – at his usual rate, anyway. The area was still damaged but well on the way to repairing. Martha gave him a painkiller, reapplied the bandage, and the Doctor barely spoke a word during it.

“Is anything else hurting?” Martha wondered after she'd finished, seeing the Doctor still subdued.

He shook his head. She glanced at Jack, and then reached for the Doctor's hand with both of hers. 

“I'd like to do a full deep body scan, if that's okay with you,” she said gently. “Just to see if there's anything else that might be wrong. It'll take a good few hours but I'll put you to sleep during it, if you'd like me to. Is that alright?”

The Doctor finally looked up, his deep brown yet utterly innocent eyes looking around her face. Not her eyes.

“Okay,” he finally said.

She smiled. “All right, lie down.”

The Doctor did, just gazing up at the ceiling. As Martha pulled in the full deep scan next to him, the Doctor suddenly looked at Jack standing there with his arms folded.

“Jack?” he asked quietly.

Jack didn't move. “Yeah?”

“... Please will you hold my hand?”

“Why?”

“I'm scared.”

Jack died a little more inside, but forced a reassuring smile. “Sure,” he said, taking the Gallifreyan's hand as Martha took a needle from the table, filling it up with a strange black liquid. The Doctor saw it, his eyes widening.

“What's that!?” he asked anxiously.

“To put you to sleep,” Martha assured him quickly. “I'll inject it into your arm. It's your own concoction so it's perfectly safe.”

“... Okay,” the Doctor eventually replied.

“Do you want to be put to sleep?”

The Doctor swallowed, glancing between her face and the needle. “Will I have a nightmare thing?”

“No,” Martha replied. “It will put you in a dreamless sleep.”

“Okay,” the Doctor said again, nodding once. 

She took his arm gently and turned up his forearm, lowering the needle to an exposed vein. “There'll be a short sharp scratch in your arm, and then you'll fall asleep.”

“Okay,” he said for the third time. “Good night,” he suddenly added.

She smiled briefly. “Good night.”

She administered the substance, and the Doctor's eyes instantly clouded over, his eyelids drooped, and within moments his head lolled and he was unconscious.

“What is that stuff?” Jack wondered as Martha initiated the scan.

“We didn't name it. He wanted something that would knock him out instantly, so we spent a few weeks in the Tardis labs.” She suddenly laughed, recalling the memory. “We kept testing on him, thought one didn't work, so I turned to clean up and next thing I hear it a little whine and a thunk, then he's on the floor singing the Teletubbies theme tune in a high-pitched voice.”

Jack couldn't help but laugh at that, before looking back down at the Doctor lying there. “Can we use that stuff to help him sleep?”

Martha shook her head. “We haven't tested it for long-term use. It's only supposed to be for emergencies.”

“Then is there anything else we can give him?”

“No.”

Jack sighed. “Really?”

Martha paused before she answered, frowning as she thought about that. “I suppose we could do a placebo.”

“You mean a sugar pill?”

Martha nodded. “Maybe if we give him something we tell him will do the job his mind will believe it and it won't happen.”

“Well, we've gotta try something,” Jack murmured, still holding the Doctor's hand. He was gazing down at it, each finger exactly how they'd always been. Long and thin, even the little brown spot in the centre of his palm was there. “He needs to sleep.” 

_ And so do I. _

He didn't say that bit. Because it almost felt like the Doctor might be starting to become an annoyance to him, and Jack  _ hated  _ himself for thinking anything like that.

* * *

 

They waited six hours for the deep scan to complete. Martha processed the results quickly, the Doctor still fast asleep during it. When they finally came through, Martha's jaw dropped almost instantaneously.

“What? What is it?” Jack asked anxiously, diving to the screen.

“... No, it's probably nothing,” Martha eventually decided.

“What?” Jack asked again, scanning his eyes over the screen. He didn't see it until Martha pointed it out – a tiny black spot just at the base of his neck at the back.

Wordlessly, she began to zoom in, further and further until they could make out what it was.

It was a tiny electronic chip.

“Is that ... Is that a tracker chip?” Jack asked, his voice barely above a whisper for the shock.

“I don't know, I couldn't be sure ... but probably,” Martha muttered back.

Jack looked at her. “Why the hell has he got a tracker chip in him?”

“Someone wants to keep an eye on him?” she suggested.

“We need to get rid of it.” 

“That's going to be tricky,” Martha said quickly, her hand in the air. “It's on his spinal cord. One wrong move and he'll be quadriplegic.”

“But we can't leave it in there!” Jack protested.

For a moment there was complete silence as they both just stared at the sleeping Doctor – completely oblivious to anything going on around him. Completely helpless. Completely vulnerable. And being watched by someone or something that had possibly been the power that had reduced him to this empty shell of a man.

Long seconds passed.

“We've got fifty-six minutes until he wakes up.” Martha suddenly said.

Jack nodded, instantly convinced. “Let's try and get it out.”

* * *

 

The Doctor woke up fifty-six minutes later, a sharp pain in his neck and a sombre-looking Martha and Jack looking down at him. Confused, he blinked a few times to focus and reached up to the back of his neck, frowning.

“No, don't touch it,” Jack said quickly, grabbing the Doctor's hand.

“What happened?” the Doctor asked, worried at Jack's anxiety.

“The scan revealed something inside your neck, attached to your spinal cord,” Martha told him gently. “We think it might be a tracker.”

“We tried to get it out but we couldn't, it's still in there,” Jack continued, gazing at the Doctor to see if he'd understood the gravity of the situation. He obviously hadn't, just lying there looking very blank indeed. Jack sighed, and tried again. “Okay. There's a little device inside you that someone has put there so they can keep an eye on where you go. It's so deeply embedded in you we would have badly hurt you by removing it. So it's still functional. This was probably what the bounty hunter was drawn to last night.”

“... Oh,” the Doctor realised.

“Is anything coming back?” Jack asked quickly. “You've got someone or something tracking your whereabouts – probably the thing that wiped your mind too. We really need to know what happened to you.”

The Doctor looked up at him, wide-eyed and completely honest. “I ... I can't remember.”

Jack sighed again, this time a pronounced sigh that was very, very noticeable; a sigh of a man being almost completely fed up with his situation. “Right,” was all he said, and left out the door very quickly indeed.

The Doctor swallowed nervously looking at Martha. “He's mad because I can't remember anything, isn't he?”

Martha avoided answering the question. “We're all a bit stressed.”

“I want to remember, Martha.”

“I know,” she assured him, squeezing his hand. “You'll get there.”

* * *

 

Martha got some placebos for the Doctor, which he took before he went to bed, convinced it would fix him. It made no difference. The now familiar shrieking scream came from Jack's room at 5am, and this time Gwen and Martha were there to see it for themselves.

They both rushed to it, dropping down the hole-in-the-floor to be confronted with the sight of the Doctor half-on and half-off of the bed, entangled in the sheets, screaming and convulsing badly.

“Doctor!” Martha yelped, trying desperately to wake him up by shaking his shoulders as Gwen pulled him free of the covers. “Doctor!”

He wasn't waking up, just lying there screaming and repeatedly whacking his head against the floor. Gwen grabbed a cushion and slipped it under to stop him hurting himself.

“What the hell is this?” Gwen yelped desperately.

“Don't know ...” Martha shook him again, and eventually took his body into both arms to give him a tight hug, running a hand through his hair like she'd seen Rose do for him so many times before to comfort him. It was a long shot, but maybe, instinctively, he would be familiar with the touch and he would calm?

It didn't work. He continued to scream and thrash. It had been over two minutes, now.

“Hold him, I need to get my kit,” Martha said quickly to Gwen, who obediently took over as Martha rushed to the med-bay. By the time Martha got back, Gwen had managed to subdue him a little.

“Hold him, still as you can,” Martha said quickly, pulling out a needle and administering it. Within moments he stopped spasming, and opened his eyes.

“Gwen? Martha?” he asked, his words somewhat slurred as he shivered badly.

“You're okay,” Gwen assured him. “We're just going to get you back on the bed. Hold on.”

With teamwork the two women picked his almost completely rigid body up between them and placed him gently on the bed. He was wide-eyed, staring at the both of them with tears in his eyes.

“Please don't make me go back to sleep,” he begged, still shaking.

“No, god no,” Gwen said quickly, hugging him again. “Do you remember the dream?”

“No,” the Doctor croaked, letting a tear slip. “Where's Jack? I ... I want Jack. I'm scared.”

“I'll see if he's awake,” Martha said, rushing out of the door.

* * *

 

Jack was on the floor of his office on a hastily-made makeshift bed, perfectly awake and staring at the wall. 

He'd heard the Doctor screaming. Every nanosecond of it.

When Martha came up to see if he was awake, he kept his eyes firmly closed to pretend he was fast asleep. 

It worked. She left after twenty seconds.

He turned over to try and get more comfortable, desperately trying to ignore his conscience.


	9. Anger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor tries to please Jack, and in turn discovers a new emotion.

Jack was in his office finishing loading up his gun when a knock on the door came at 10am.

“Come in,” Jack replied, somewhat distractedly.

“Jack?” it was the Doctor. “Are you okay? You weren't at breakfast.”

Jack got up from his chair, slipping the gun into his holster and finally looked up at the Doctor standing there, arms hanging loosely at his sides. Jack broadened a smile at him. There wasn't really much feeling in it. It was more sort of mandatory with the Doctor, now.

“I'm fine,” he answered, moving to pass the Doctor out of the door.

“Where are you going?” the Doctor asked.

“Reported sighting of a weevil on the loose, we're heading out for a look.”

“Can I come?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

Jack gritted his teeth, suddenly incredibly agitated. “Stop  _ doing  _ that.”

The Doctor's eyes widened. “Doing what?”

“You'd  _ fight  _ me!”

“Would I?”

“Yes!”

“Oh, sorry,” the Doctor said quickly, before raising his voice just a tad in a pathetic attempt to sound demanding, “I want to come!!!”

Jack sighed, looking up at the Doctor standing there trying desperately to be affirmative to please him, but really only a mouse in big boots. 

Nowhere  _ near _ his Doctor. 

“Forget it,” Jack muttered, and then left without another word.

* * *

 

“Okay, what colour are her eyes?”

“I don't know.”

“Her hair? What about her hair? What colour is it?”

“I don't know.”

“Is it long? Short? Curly?”

“I don't know ...”

Martha just stared at the frowning Doctor, trying desperately to calm herself down. She'd been avoiding this topic for a while now, as she was terrified of what his answer would be. Finally having sufficiently psyched herself up for it that very morning, she had asked the question and as all her nightmares were realised in his reply, she almost felt like bursting into tears for him.

He couldn't remember his own  _ mother. _

Different approach. She pushed forward a pen and paper to him. “Okay, draw your idea of a perfect mum.”

“What?” he asked, gazing at her in confusion.

“Draw a face with hair or a hat or anything you like, of someone you'd like to be your mum.”

“Okay,” he said, still frowning. He clutched the pen in his fist like a small child, and lowered the pen to paper. He drew a vague approximation of a circle, juddery and slow. Martha's eyes slowly widened as horror filled her ...

“Hold on,” she said quickly, flipping over the paper. “Just ... write your name for me, okay? In English.”

He stared at the paper for a while, as if trying to work something out. Then he drew a direct vertical line downwards. After a few more moments of thought, he connected the two ends of the vertical line in an over-sized semi-circle of a very badly-written D. He seemed pleased with himself, and moved onto the O. The connecting line went too far. The following C didn't go around far enough, the T looked like an F, the second O was far too big and the R became a backwards capital.

The Doctor drew back, looking pleased, at least until he saw Martha's face.

“Is that not right?” he asked, apprehensive.

Martha didn't answer, just staring at the mess he'd made of writing his own name. Like a tiny child learning to write his name for the first time.

It made her feel very, very sick.

“Martha?” he wondered.

“Oh God,” was all she croaked.

“What?”

“Just ... Look, give me a while to think,” she said dismissively, taking the piece of paper and pen from him to stare at the writing closer. “Have a rest.”

“Okay,” he replied, getting up, but suddenly stopping. “Wait, Martha?”

“Yes?” she asked, a little stressed.

“I think I annoyed Jack this morning ...”

“What? How?”

“I don't know, he was annoyed at me. How can I make it up to him? I want him to like me.”

“He does like you, he was probably just focused on the job today,” Martha assured him quickly. “He loves you.”

“Really?” the Doctor wondered.

“Really,” Martha confirmed. “Tell you what you could do, though. His office is a mess; you could tidy it for him.”

“Okay,” the Doctor said, suddenly spreading a smile. “Thank you,” he added, and then left with a renewed bounce in his step.

* * *

 

The Doctor went straight to Jack's office, and set to work. He roamed through the files in cabinets to make sure everything was filed in the right place. He even reorganised them into labelled cabinets and alphabetised into the relevant group. He polished the wood, cleaned the metal and made everything neat, tidy and shiny inside-out. 

He then moved onto the desk. In the drawers he found a menagerie of objects, including three  Webley Mk IV  guns and a few cases of .38 caliber bullets in the lower left drawer. In the top left was a stack of takeaway menus. In the bottom right was a half empty bottle of whiskey and some odds and ends for electronics. The top right drawer was locked. So he polished the guns, threw away the out of date menus and organised the new ones by food type, before finally organising the electronics in sections by function. 

The whole session took three hours. By the time he was done the Doctor was exhausted, standing there staring at his work with pride. At least until he saw the top of a particularly high cabinet that he had missed – a few miscellaneous items scattered on top. He moved to take a closer look.

It was a mess up there; objects of Jack's left lonely and abandoned. Amongst abandoned files and CDs was a toy figurine of Obi-Wan Kenobi, stood there on the edge covered in dust from lack of love.

The Doctor turned back to the table to get a chair to perch on, but accidentally knocked the file cabinet with his elbow. Something wobbled and he turned back just in time to see Obi-Wan Kenobi fall to the hard, metal floor, where his right arm and leg snapped off on contact.

“Oh no,” the Doctor whined, pure fear instantly rising up and gripping his throat as he dropped to his knees beside the toy, picking up the pieces and cradling it in his hands. He'd broken Jack's possession ...

For a while he just stared at it, not knowing at all what to do. At least until the door opened and Jack walked in. He did a double-take at the Doctor kneeling there on the floor.

“What are you ...?” His eyes drifted to the broken toy. “Oh.”

“I'm so sorry, Jack,” the Doctor whined, looking up at him like a kid who'd just broken his mum's favourite necklace. “It was an accident ...”

Jack just sighed, avoiding eye contact. “Yeah, yeah. It's fine,” he fobbed off, walking right past the Doctor to his gun drawer. He looked at the Doctor again, who continued to just stare at him with those big, innocent brown eyes. “Look, just get out, all right? I've got things to do.”

“But ...”

“I said get out, Doctor.”

The Doctor slowly clambered to his feet, still holding the toy. “I'll ... I'll try and fix it for you.”

Jack suddenly flared up, slamming his fist on the table in agitation. “I don't _care_ about the fucking _toy_ , just get _out!”_

For a moment, there was an angry silence as Jack stared at him with maddened eyes, unblinking. 

It was only a matter of seconds until the Doctor ran out of the door as quickly as he could, sprinting down the stairs, avoiding anyone else. He ran across the Hub to a set of stairs, descending down and taking a left through a door he'd never been through before. 

He closed the door quietly, and then leant back against it, closing his eyes for a moment to try and stop himself from crying. It didn't work. He slipped down to the floor to curl into the foetal position, still holding Obi-Wan as though it were his only possession in the world. 

There was suddenly a whistling sound. He looked up through wet eyes, and realised something was living just down the corridor out of sight.

He hastily wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve and got up quietly, still clutching onto Obi-Wan. He started forwards, ever so carefully, until he reached the source of the noise – a creature behind a clear screen, whistling.

The Doctor pocketed Obi-Wan and just stared at the strange creature. It slowly turned its head towards him – hairless, veiny and wrinkled with an extremely wide nose and tiny ears. It widened its mouth to expose numerous pointy teeth at the Doctor, and then fixed its gaze on him.

“Hello?” the Doctor asked, and then realised something was happening to his head. A sadness. An incredible sadness was wafting through his mind like fog, easing in gently. The Doctor nearly started crying again as the incredibly powerful feeling took hold, and he knew what was happening instinctively. This creature was incredibly sad for some reason, and he was feeling its sadness.

The Doctor frowned, reaching out a hand to rest on the wall between them. Their eyes were still fixed to each other.

Then the creature stopped whistling, and it began to growl. A deep, throaty growl. The Doctor didn't see it as threatening in the least ... He saw an affinity ...

And then the feeling of sadness was being wiped over, wiped over with a feeling of pure anger. The Doctor's heartsbeat increased as he began to see nothing but red; his teeth gritted, his eyes narrowing ...

Then he growled in return. He did it without even realising. He was panting and growling carnally, his hand clenching on the dividing wall, carving fingernail scrapes down it as the world began to blur into a merging of colours. He'd never felt anger before. This was anger. This was  _ rage.  _ This was  _ liberating ... _

“Doctor?” 

Martha's voice cut through the anger like a knife through butter. He jerked abruptly away from the wall, and left the creature to run up the stairs to the main Hub where he met Martha and Jackie standing side by side.

“Jackie's here to see you,” she said to him, smiling. 

The Doctor didn't smile back.

She frowned at that. “Are you –”

Jackie swiftly interrupted, a woman clearly in despair. “Doctor, can we have a chat?”

“Yeah,” he said, but didn't move. 

Martha glanced between the Doctor and Jackie. “Umm, I'll leave you two alone,” she said, smiling sheepishly and wandering off across the Hub.

“Doctor,” Jackie launched straight into it. “I can't ... I can't bloody take this anymore. I need to know. Please tell me if Rose and the kids are okay. Please tell me you remember ...”

“I don't know ... I'm sorry,” was all the Doctor could reply.

“You have to think!” she demanded. “I  _ have _ to know she's alive!”

“I don't know!” the Doctor repeated, far more forcefully.

“It's in there somewhere!”

Suddenly the Doctor stepped forward towards her, his fists clenched, staring at her hatefully. “I don't know this Rose and I don't know where she is, all right!?”

“Don't get angry with me!” she spat, hands on hips.

“Oh, I'm sorry, what am I  _ supposed  _ to do!?” he screamed back, fully enraged now. “Tell me what I'm supposed to do! How would the Doctor react then!? How would your Doctor react to this!? Because I don't know! Maybe he'd do this!”

He ran over to the computer terminals and yanked a monitor off of the wall, before lifting it above his head smashing it on the floor where it fragmented into a million pieces. He took the keyboard and threw it across the Hub.

“Come on!” he implored. “Stop me if this isn't what I'm supposed to do, mother-in-law!”

Jackie didn't have a clue what to do, but was thankfully saved by the arrival of Martha, running to the Doctor.

“Doctor, calm down!” she begged, trying to take his arm.

“Get off!” he screamed, yanking his arm out of her grip and leaping back. “Don't  _ touch _ me!”

“What the hell is going on!?” came Jack's voice from above.

The Doctor hurled another monitor to the floor, shortly followed by a mainframe computer. “How about  _ this,  _ Jack!? Am I  _ demanding  _ now!? Am I  _ fighting yet!?” _

Another piece of irreplaceable technology smashed to the floor in a fountain of sparks, glass and metal as the Doctor continued to move backwards, towards the concrete wall. 

“Please stop!” Martha whined as Jackie stood there with no idea what to do. “The old you, he never ...”

“But I'm not  _ him _ , am I!?” the Doctor interrupted in a scream.

“You just need time!”

_ “Nothing  _ is coming back,  _ nothing!  _ What's the point, Martha!? What's the  _ point  _ of  _ me!?” _

Jackie was suddenly speaking, renewed with some sort of surprise confidence. “Never say that, sweetheart. You're so important to so many people ...”

“Not now, right!?” he yelled.  _ “He's  _ the important one! You care about  _ him,  _ not me! I'm a waste of space and everyone's time because I can't even remember my own  _ mother,  _ right!?”

He'd reached the concrete wall now, and started throwing his head against it,  _ extremely _ hard. 

“Stop!” Martha begged, trying to move forward but he kicked out at her every time. Jack began to hurtle down the stairs, desperate to stop this.

“It won't work! It won't come!” the Doctor yelled repeatedly, every syllable punctuated with a crack of his head against the solid concrete wall. “WORK!” he demanded his brain, his head now covered in blood. “Just fucking  _ work!!!” _

Jack finally reached him, grabbing him in restraint. The Doctor kicked out desperately to try and get free.

“Martha get something to stop him!” Jack yelled, just before the Doctor slipped out of his arms and threw himself at the wall again. Jack got his arms around the Doctor's arms and chest, wrestling him to the floor and bodily pinning him down.

“Get off!” the Doctor screamed.

“No!” Jack screamed back. “Calm down!”

The Doctor pulled back his legs and kicked Jack in the stomach. As Jack reeled in surprise the Doctor rolled out and scrambled across the room, down a flight of stairs into the bowels of the Hub.

“No, Doctor! Don't go down there!” Jack yelled from somewhere behind him, but he wasn't listening. The Doctor ran through the winding corridors with blood running down his face, through rooms stacked with files, through more and more corridors and finally through a door into a wide, open room.

He stopped dead.

There was that bounty hunter from a few days ago, lying on a table in the centre of the room with a massive hole in his stomach, his insides now his outsides and continuous drip of red blood  _ still  _ splattering to the floor even now. The stench was incredible. The bounty hunter's face was staring straight at him, the eyes wide open and unseeing, the jaw agape.

The Doctor suddenly felt very, very weak. Something was coming up from inside him – something up his throat. He had no idea what it was, at least until he retched, opened his mouth and vomited all over the floor. His legs wobbled, his head went light, and then he fainted clean away.


	10. Fish and Chips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack has some serious issues in accepting the amnesiac Doctor.

The situation was an absolute mess.

Jack had changed completely. He had ordered Martha to fix the Doctor's head as quickly as she could and then he had locked the Doctor in one of the cells, allowing no access to the area. The Doctor had been down there for five hours, now.

Martha knew locking the Doctor up would probably do more harm than good, but any attempt to reason with Jack had been brushed aside. She knew what this was doing to him, seeing the Doctor so unlike the Doctor. It was completely destroying Jack's soul – his sanity ... and she understood. Not that it made it right.

“Jack, please let him out.”

“No.”

“He's not a threat. He just needs some time to piece back together his memory,” Martha assured him. “You know that.”

“Martha, he can't even write!” Jack pointed out, throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation. 

“He'll remember.”

“It's been five days, Martha! He's not remembering  _ anything,  _ he's just repeating what we're telling him as fact!”

“This isn't going to fix itself overnight,” she insisted. “This'll take time ...”

“Tell me, how can someone normal speak every language in the universe absolutely fluently but can't write a single goddamn letter of the alphabet!?”

“I don't know, but I'm sure there's ...”

“A reasonable explanation!?” Jack completed as a partial question, almost laughing in disbelief.

“Yes, I do,” she replied calmly.

“He's a lunatic right now! He's putting himself and all of us in danger!”

“That's not fair, you can't blame him for raging like that,” Martha insisted. “It's not like we were being helpful or anything this morning.”

“Stop defending him! You know as well as I do that we can't go on like this!”

“Are you suggesting we  _ abandon  _ him!?” Martha asked incredulously, appalled at Jack's words.

“I'm saying we need to take him to Unit!”

“What!? We can't take him there, not after last time ...” Martha gabbled in surprise at his suggestion.

“I'm sorry but we just don't have the time or resources to deal with this totally crazy amnesiac alien! You know I'm right!”

“No, you're not!” Martha screamed back. “He's your best friend and he needs your help!”

“Get the hell out, I can't listen to this,” Jack spat, waving a dismissive hand at her.

“You can't ignore this!”

“Right now I am, and I for one fell a lot safer now he's locked up in a cell!”

“But ...”

“He's a  _ freak!” _ Jack yelled, slamming his hands on the table and jumping to his feet, gazing at her.

Martha instantly launched out an arm to grab his wrist, gripping it to blood stopping point as every ounce of adrenaline pumped into her body at his harsh words.

“His name is the Doctor and you  _ bloody  _ well know that,” she grated, her voice now at an angry whisper as she gazed unrelentingly into his eyes. “Think about what you just said.”

Jack swallowed, and quickly realised he'd let his mouth run away without his brain maintaining it. “I didn't mean that.”

“Good. Because yes, he's an alien but he's also our friend, our  _ best  _ friend. He's the one that's helped us without question for all these years and now he actually needs you you're being  _ incredibly unfair. _ If this happened to you he wouldn't give up on you, would he? Really.”

Jack paused, swallowing, before finally muttering, “... no.”

“Exactly. He likes talking to you, so talk back to him. One day he'll remember something, maybe not something big, but he'll remember  _ something.  _ It'll be the breakthrough and then we can get him back. He's my friend too, Rose is my friend, their kids called me Auntie Martha, and the amount of times he's saved our lives ... the things he done for us. We owe him this. Don't give up on him, please.”

Jack sighed. “You're right. I'm so sorry.”

“I understand.”

“I just ... I just can't take this anymore.”

“I know.”

“It's ... It's almost like he's dead. Every time I look at that guy I just see with every passing day my best friend as more and more dead. It's like I'm grieving for him already.”

“I understand, but that needs to change.”

“I know. I'm sorry.”

“You shouldn't be apologising to me, Jack,” Martha insisted. “That man sitting down in that cell right now was asking me this morning how to make him like you because you were rude to him. He really likes you, Jack. He's attached to you. And right now you could be his only hope.”

Jack didn't meet her eyes. “I've ruined this, haven't I?”

“No. I'm not saying this is all your fault. It's been all of us giving him our expectations of what he should be like and false pretence every time we talk to him. This morning when he couldn't write his name I had to send him out of the room and that wasn't smart, I know. To be honest we're lucky he only did that, he could've done a lot worse. So consider this our wake up call, okay? Second chance, for everyone.”

“Okay.”

* * *

 

Everything was absolutely silent when Jack arrived at the cells. Even Janet the Weevil was quiet as he marched past her to the end cell where the Doctor was. Jack found him lying there on the drab bed, staring at the far wall in utter silence. His head was full of stitches from the amount of damage he'd caused himself, his hair still matted with dried blood as he clutched onto something in his hands.

“Doctor?” Jack asked quietly. 

“Go away!” the Doctor responded angrily, snapping his eyes shut and curling up tighter.

Jack sighed, took a deep breath and keyed in the code to the door. With a beep, a hiss and a clunk the door swung inwards and he entered the cell. He left the door wide open, moving to the bed. The Doctor kept his eyes firmly shut, so Jack just sat down against the wall next to the head of the bed.

“... Thanks for sorting out my office,” Jack eventually said. “I can find things now.”

“Go away!” the Doctor repeated, curling up tighter.

Jack looked at him a little more. “You're angry, I know. Why  are you angry?” Jack wondered.

“Anger is the only way people listen to me!” the Doctor yelled back.

Jack swallowed. “No, it's not. It's really not. I've been a bit of a dick to be fair and you don't deserve it. I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to be angry to make people listen to you. I'm listening. What's going through your head?”

“Nothing!”

“What?”

“That's the point, nothing!” the Doctor whined. “I can't remember anything, everyone is telling me what I should do and I tried and it's just not working because of my stupid brain!”

He hit his head against the bed, his skull bouncing off harmlessly.

“... Don't do that. Please.”

The Doctor suddenly looked at him, watery eyes connecting with Jack's. He finally sat up on the bed, revealing he was still cradling the broken Obi-Wan Kenobi.

“I'm sorry,” he finally said calmly, staring at the toy.

“I really don't mind you know,” Jack assured him seriously. "It's just stuff. It's things. Material stuff that can be replaced." He gazed at the Doctor for a moment. "People can't. I forgot that for a while, I know. I'm sorry."

The Doctor sniffed and looked at him again. "And I'm sorry I got angry."

"Oh, don't be an idiot,” Jack chastised. “I've had amnesia before, not this bad but I know what it's like. You're confused and scared, I know. People kept telling me all the things I was supposed to remember and I just got agitated that I couldn't. I got angry with them, and with myself. We're not exactly helping you by telling you what you're supposed to do, either. That's not fair. But we'll sort this. Don't feel bad; this isn't your fault. This is the fault of whatever big and powerful thing that did this to you is.”

The Doctor didn't reply.

Jack got up and sat next to him on the bed. “From now on when you talk, we listen. I promise. Okay?”

“Okay,” the Doctor muttered. He looked so lost and lonely sitting there. 

Jack reached forward to hug him, and the Doctor responded in kind.

“I want to remember. I sound so happy,” the Doctor murmured over Jack's shoulder.

Jack drew away, cupping the Doctor's cheek and gazing into his eyes, his voice low and measured. “It'll come when it'll come. In all my wisdom I forgot the most important thing – while you're like this, you're not him. You're your own person. And we need to respect that. This is mad for all of us, but it's far worse for you, I know. So I've got a proposal. Let's be normal.”

“What?” the Doctor asked, wiping at his eyes.

Jack broadened a grin. “How about some fish and chips?”

* * *

 

The smell was what hit the Doctor first; the pure smell of fish and chips wafting out of a tiny shop on the corner near the Hub.

“C'mon,” Jack said, taking the Doctor's arm and pulling him into the shop. 

There the Doctor was greeted by strange new sights and sounds, the hiss and spit of the deep fryers and the radio pumping out the latest music. There was a woman behind the counter, who looked up  on their entry and smiled.

“What'll it be?” she asked in a vibrant Welsh accent.

“I'll have cod and chips, and ... Doctor?”

“What?”

Jack laughed at his deer-caught-in-headlights expression. “Food. What d'you want to eat?” 

He gestured to the board, and the Doctor stared at it for a long while, frowning.

“What’s a ... battered sausage?” he asked.

“It’s nice,” Jack responded. “It's a deep-fried sausage.”

“What does that taste like?”

“Err ... Like a deep-fried sausage ...? I can't explain it.”

They were interrupted by a very loud, pronounced sigh from behind them. Slightly stunned, Jack turned to find a large, muscled man standing there behind them staring at his watch pointedly.

Jack's eyes narrowed. “We'll be a minute.” He turned back to the board. “You usually got the large chicken nuggets and large chips,” he told the Doctor.

“What's a nugget?”

“Oi, tell your scrut of a friend to hurry the fuck up,” the man snapped.

Jack looked back, beginning to feel a bit irate now. “Hey, he's got severe amnesia. Give us a minute.”

The man sighed, and fell silent. Jack was about to turn back before the man suddenly spoke again ...

“Cont gwirion.”

Jack stopped abruptly in mid-movement. “... What did you just say?” he asked, already knowing perfectly well what he had said but not quite being able to believe that he had.

“Jack!?” the Doctor asked anxiously.

“Stay back, Doctor,” Jack warned, holding out an arm.

The man suddenly laughed boisterously. “Oh, he's a doctor! It gets better and better!”

Jack's eyes narrowed. He couldn't stop this now. It had been a very long time since he'd had a public fight, and he had had  _ many  _ in his time. It was clearly time for another, to protect the Doctor's dignity.

So he rolled up his sleeves, preparing himself. “Let's take this outside,” he grated to the man.

The man just grinned a toothless grin in response. “Go on, then, twll tin!”

“Jack!” the Doctor wailed, but the two were already moving outside and crowds of interested people were beginning to gather. The Doctor followed, but couldn't watch, dropping to sit down on the step and covering his head with his hands. 

“Hey butty, you alright?” a voice asked. The Doctor looked up, finding a young beautiful blonde woman looking down at him sympathetically.

“No,” the Doctor whined, covering his head again.

Without any invitation, she sat down next to him. “My name's Cerys,” she said by way of introduction. “What's yours?”

“... Doctor, I'm the Doctor,” he replied, daring to look at her again. 

“Doctor? Really?” she asked, a little surprised and amused at the same time. In return he looked a bit stunned at her reaction, and she smiled a reassuring smile, before her eyes flickered up to his head, cut, bruised and stitched up. 

“So what's your story?” she asked. “You look like you  _ need  _  a doctor rather than being one.”

“My story?” the Doctor queried.

“Your head, what happened to it?” she reiterated. “And the vacant expression?” she added, laughing. 

“Oh,” the Doctor realised. “My head isn't right.”

“What d'you mean, butty?”

“I can't remember things,” the Doctor muttered. “I was someone before but I don't remember him.”

“Oh, that's so sad,” Cerys said quietly, taking his hand. “So you mean you hit your head and don't remember who you are? Like in that film?”

"Jack says someone really bad and powerful did it to me."

Cerys' jaw dropped. "Were you like, a secret agent or something? Like a spy?"

The Doctor frowned. "I don't know."

"I bet you were. You were doing government stuff and the other side got you and had to wipe your memory! I bet that's what happened! I mean, you've got a code name and everything."

She looked exceptionally pleased with her reasoning. Although he didn't really understand what she was talking about, the Doctor quickly began to find himself liking her. She had a peculiar way of closing her eyes tightly every time she laughed. 

"So where do you live, Doctor?" she asked, still smiling. 

The Doctor frowned. He really had to think about that for a moment. "Over there," he ended up saying, pointing at the Plass. "It's called the Hub."

"Oh!" she realised. "It must be somewhere really technical where they take injured spies, right? I get it." 

“Must be,” the Doctor supposed, quite calm now. 

“Do they let you have visitors?” she wondered after a moment's pause.

“I don't get visitors,” the Doctor replied.

“What? Don't you have any family or anything?”

“I have a wife, she's blonde and pretty,” the Doctor told her, less as a description of a person he loved and more of a bullet point list of features. “And a daughter. I don't know what she looks like. I think I have another one too 'cause everyone says kids, not kid. I don't remember them. Everyone else thinks they're dead.”

“Oh, that's so sad,” Cerys repeated, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Maybe ... Maybe I can be your visitor?”

He widened a smile back. “I’d like that.”

The distant sounds of police sirens was what quickly caused the crowd to disperse like kids in the playground running from a teacher, and Jack appeared moments later.

“That was fun,” Jack's voice enthused suddenly, moving towards them before he realised. “Doctor? Who the hell is this?”

“This is Cerys,” the Doctor said quickly, getting up.

“... So I see,” Jack muttered.

“Are you okay?” the Doctor asked anxiously, reaching up to look at his cuts and bruises from the fight.

“Fine,” Jack dismissed, batting away his hand and glaring at Cerys. “C'mon, Doctor. Gotta go.”

“But ...” the Doctor began, looking at Cerys who was sat there looking up at the Doctor dreamily.

“We're going,” Jack grated, yanking his arm to pull him across the Plass to the Hub.

“Bye, Doctor!” Cerys yelled, waving.

“Bye!” the Doctor called back as Jack pulled him around the corner, marching him down the slope through the shop, past a confused Ianto and into the Hub. Jack quickly shut the door and pushed the Doctor back against the wall.

“What were you doing?” Jack asked, harshly.

“Talking ...” the Doctor replied, wide-eyed. He couldn't understand why Jack was upset.

“Do you  _ know  _ how dangerous it is for you to talk to random people? Did you tell her you're not human!?”

“No ...”

“Did you tell her what had happened to you?”

“Yeah ...”

“Did you tell her where the Hub is!?”

“I ... Umm ...”

“Doctor!” Jack urged.

“I pointed ...”

“Ugh,” Jack grunted, hand on his head. “What does she think you are?”

“She kept calling me a secret agent ...” 

“Well that's something at least,” Jack sighed in relief, gripping the Doctor's good shoulder tightly.

“What's happened?” Martha asked, coming towards them.

“He's out having chats with random women about him and Torchwood!” Jack exclaimed, exasperated.

“Jack,” Martha warned in a low tone. “Second chance.”

Jack swallowed, nodded, and gathered himself together. “Sorry, Doctor. But you can't do that. After what happened with the Shadow Proclamation, Earth really doesn't like aliens. If anyone found out about Torchwood, us, or that you're not human ... MI5 would be down on you like a sack of bricks and next thing you know you'll be chained up in a basement somewhere being experimented on and I don't think I could live with myself.”

“I'm sorry.”

Jack sighed. “No, not your fault, I should've told you.”

“If I don't tell Cerys about that can I still see her?” the Doctor asked quietly.

Jack glanced at Martha, frowning. “Why do you want to see her?”

“Because she was nice.”

“Doctor ...” Jack muttered, apprehensive. “Do you like,  _ like  _ her?”

“What does that mean?”

“I mean ... Do you want to  _ really  _ get to know her?”

“I guess,” the Doctor supposed.

“No.”

“What?”

“Doctor, you ... you love Rose, all right?”

The Doctor was beginning to get frustrated. “No, I don't.”

Jack's jaw dropped. “What? But you do!”

“How can I love someone I've never even met?” the Doctor whined. “You say I love her but I don't even remember what she looks like!”

“I told you, she's ...”

“She's pretty and blonde!” the Doctor cried, exasperated. “What colour are her eyes?”

“They're brown!”

“What does she wear?”

“She ...”

“Does she have a nice laugh? Does she have any cute habits? What's her personality like? Is she a good mother? And what about Leah? What's her favourite toy? Do I have any other children? What are their names? What do they look like?”

Everything suddenly fell very quiet. 

“All right,” Jack finally said. “Follow me. I've got something to show you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cont gwirion - Stupid c*nt  
> Twll tin - Arsehole


	11. Happy Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and the Doctor both give up any hope of the Doctor’s memories coming back.

Jack took him to the meeting room and sat him down at the table whilst he went to retrieve something from his office. He came back a mere two minutes later, a laptop under his arm and a file in his hand.

He took the seat next to the Doctor, and steeled himself with a breath.

“I didn't want to show you this 'cause I wanted you to remember first,” Jack began, rooting around in the file. “But here they are.” He drew out a photograph, and held it in front of the Doctor. “Martha took this photo a few Christmases ago.”

The Doctor stared at the picture. There were three people sitting in a place he didn't recognise, a pretty blonde woman was sitting on the left, he was on the right and a little brown-haired girl was on his lap, beaming away. “... That's me,” the Doctor realised, astonished.

“Yeah,” Jack said, and pointed at the smiling blonde woman on the left. “That's your wife, Rose, and that's Leah in your lap.”

The Doctor took the photo into both hands, staring at their faces intently. He focused every single cell of his brain into trying to recognise their faces – his wife, his daughter – both beautiful and sitting there with him as a happy, loving family ...

“When this picture got taken Rose was stressing a bit because she wasn't wearing any make up, and you told her she looked beautiful without it. Leah jumped on your lap, you all said silly sausages and Martha took the picture. Then you looked at it and Leah told you that you looked funny. She was two when this got taken. After this I had to put Leah to bed because you two had eaten too much and couldn't be bothered to get up.”

Jack waited, just watching the Doctor stare at the picture. The Doctor didn't say a word, so Jack continued.

“You've also got a son, Alex.” He produced another photograph, handing it to the Doctor. It was a picture of him again, lying in a bed asleep with a small brown-haired baby on his chest. “When Rose is pregnant you feel the contractions in labour. You nearly died trying to get him in the world. You went into a coma from the severe pain you were feeling and your life-signs started dropping, just from the pain of the contractions. Alex's life-signs were falling too so we had to get Rose in for an emergency c-section. You didn't wake up until the next morning. When Martha gave him to you, she said the first thing you said was that he was beautiful and it had been worth every second. Then you didn't let him go for anyone. I took the picture when you fell asleep holding him. You had no idea.”

The Doctor remained silent.

“You have a third child, called Kiana. She's not genetically yours or Rose's, you adopted her. You remember the Master, right?” 

The Doctor nodded.

“He abandoned her at our doorstep. You tried to reason with him but he wouldn't listen. You took her in and made her part of your family because you were scared he would have neglected her.”

The Doctor still didn't make a sound, just staring at the pictures together, holding one on top of the other. 

“And there's one more thing,” Jack added, turning around his laptop screen to face the Doctor. “Martha and Tom, Tom is Martha's ex-husband, they had their reception in London and we were all invited. I had a video camera with me so I recorded for a bit. You and Rose are in it. Do you want to see it?”

The Doctor looked up from the photos, his eyes wide. “You ... you have a video?”

“Just the one. It's in the first couple of months of yours and Rose's relationship. Would you like to see it?”

The Doctor could only stare at Jack for a moment, his jaw agape. This was it. 

“... Yeah,” he croaked.

Jack just nodded, and hit play.

* * *

 

It was the middle of the party, Happy Together by The Turtles was pumping out loud and Jack was panning the camera around at the milling people.

“Some covert spying ...” Jack's voice came from behind the camera zooming in on Martha and Mickey getting slightly intimate. “Whoa Martha, you're married to Tom now!” he joked, and moved off across the room to pick out the Doctor and Rose.

The Doctor was sat on the side in a chair, Rose tugging his arm to try and pull him up. He was refusing to budge, shaking his head. Jack moved closer, the camera microphone just about able to pick out their voices.

“Come on,” Rose was saying, still pulling on his arm.

“No,” he answered seriously.

“Just five minutes,” Rose begged.

“Five minutes too long.”

She sighed. “You're so boring.”

“I am not!” the Doctor protested.

“Yeah, you are.”

“Because I don't want to dance?”

“Yeah! Come on, this is our song.”

“How is this our song?”

“The Kronids.”

“Technically not, as this song was playing when the Kronids were ...”

“Oh, shut up,” she chastised. “I thought you were more fun than this.”

“Fine!” the Doctor said, throwing his arms in the air and getting to his feet. 

Rose grinned, mission obviously accomplished, her tongue between her teeth. She took his hand, pulling him to the centre of the designated dance-floor. Jack followed with the camera as Rose wrapped her arms around his chest, pulling him close.

_ “I can't see me loving nobody but you, for all my life...” _

“Come on, move,” she demanded.

“I'm not a dog,” the Doctor insisted.

She laughed, linking her fingers in his and holding them up. “You sleep like one.”

“What?”

“It's cute. You know like how dogs run in their sleep? That's what you do.”

He tried to look insulted but it turned into a laugh very quickly. “Says the snorer.”

Rose instantly turned bright red, letting go of him to put hand over her mouth. “I so don't!”

“It's fine; your nose twitches too like a bunny rabbit so it's quite cute,” he assured her, grinning.

She shoved him lightly, torn between being insulted and laughing. “You're so mean!”

“What?” he protested. “I said you're cute.”

She rolled her eyes, pulling him into an intimate hug. “You're impossible. And you're still not dancin'.”

_ “Me and you, and you and me ... No matter how they tossed the dice, it had to be ...” _

“I'm not much of a dancer in this body,” the Doctor insisted.

“You've never tried.”

“Don't you remember your birthday?” he asked seriously.

“That doesn't count.”

“I over-spun, fell over and nearly broke the table.”

“That was on the Wii and you had an ear infection so you could barely stand up anyway. It doesn't count.”

“I'm not dancing.”

She sighed. “Fine,” she said, reaching up his neck to bring him down to kiss her, tongues and all. When they needed to take a breath around thirty seconds later they finally drew back, both just absorbed in each other's eyes.

“I love you,” he whispered, utterly sincere.

“I love you too. And I  _ will  _ get my dance.”

“Not likely.”

" _ Ba-ba-ba bah, ba-ba-ba bah ..." _

Finally Rose looked up, realising Jack was standing there with the camera. Instantly she looked aghast. “How long have you been filmin' us?”

“Good few minutes!” Jack replied happily, and stopped recording.

* * *

 

The video ended, and Jack didn't even need to look at the Doctor. He was crying. Jack almost dreaded what would come next.

“They're so happy,” was all he said.

Jack's heart sank. “You don't remember that.”

The Doctor just choked another sob. “Not a word.”

Jack swallowed, feeling quite numb as leant forward to close the laptop. He then moved back to resume his seat, gazing at the Doctor. Silence reigned for a very long time.

“... I'm really ill, aren't I,” the Doctor finally said, not as a question.

Jack sighed. “Yeah.”

“I'm not going to get better.”

“No.”

“... Oh god,” the Doctor croaked.

Jack sighed again, reaching out to take his hand. He knew what he had to say next, but he had to take a few deep breaths to manage it. “Maybe ... Maybe we should stop, Doctor. Just stop trying to remember. 'Cause ... I don't think there's anything in there.”

It felt more like he was confirming to taking someone off of life support. The Doctor didn't say a word, just sat there crying.

“Maybe ...” Jack began, but now he was forcing the words out – every syllable felt like the whack of a hammer on the head of a nail in his best friend's coffin. “Maybe we should ... We should stop calling you Doctor.”

The Doctor looked at him, a wounded puppy, a child whose granddad had just died – his eyes wide and wet. “... What's my name?”

“I don't know,” Jack said softly, reaching out to rest a hand on the Doctor's arm. “I'll call you Doctor until you find a new one. For yourself.”

“Okay,” the Doctor croaked, and quickly got up. “I'll ... I'll go now.”

Jack nodded. “We'll figure something out. I'm not giving up on you. Not this time.”

“Okay,” was all the Doctor replied, getting up and leaving out of the door. About a minute later the Hub door opened and closed, but Jack wasn't paying attention. He was staring at his desk, his hands tangled deep in his hair.

He was trying not to cry. His best friend was dead. There was absolutely no denying it now. The Doctor was not the Doctor. Not anymore. And he wasn’t going to come back.

Then he realised the Hub door had just opened and closed with no intruder alarm. Someone had gone out. 

_ The Doctor  _ had gone out.

Jack got up instantly, his chair flying to the floor with a crash. He sprinted to the door, practically flew down the stairs and took the lift, slamming his hand on the contraption repeatedly to try and make it go faster though he knew it wouldn't make a blind bit of difference.

It felt like an age until it reached the top, bursting out of the hole-in-the-ground to meet a bitterly cold night with the rain pouring down. He didn't even bother waiting until the lift had met the concrete, jumping the last few feet to the surface.

He looked around desperately, and saw a figure running off across the Plass to a crowd of buildings. 

“Doctor!” Jack yelled, and started after him through the puddles of collected water on the ground. The Doctor was incredibly fast and Jack nearly lost him, until he heard the clangs of someone running fast up a stairwell. He followed the noise up some access steps, all the way up what felt like a million flights until he ended up on a roof, completely out of breath.

He saw the Doctor instantly, standing there in the pouring rain in his oversized white shirt and jeans, almost completely soaked. He was facing Jack with one of the guns from the drawer in his hand, the rain running down his face ... or was he crying?

“Doctor ...” Jack began, his emotions torn between confusion and just plain terror. “Come here.”

The Doctor didn't answer him, just raising the gun at Jack.

Jack's breath caught in his throat. He raised his hands defensively. “Doctor, don't. Please. You don't know what that does; the hurt it causes ...”

“Guns make people do what you want,” the Doctor replied, almost robotically.

“... What do you want?” Jack croaked.

“Stay away. Let me do this.”

“Do what?”

In a form of reply, the Doctor took a step back to the edge of the roof.

“No!” Jack yelped, stepping forward. The Doctor reaffirmed the grip on his gun and Jack stopped dead. 

“I'm sorry,” the Doctor said, taking another cautious step back. “But I have to.”

“You don't, you don't need to,” Jack said desperately. “Why are you doing this?”

“I can regenerate ... Which means if I'm sick or injured to the point I can't get better I can regenerate into a new body to fix myself,” he uttered, copying Sarah's explanation word for word. “I have to kill myself, Jack. I have to regenerate. Please, please let me regenerate.”

“No! You don't know what you're talking about!” Jack cried in desperation. “This won't solve anything!”

“But it'll fix me.”

“That's ... That's not a guarantee, all right? You’ve got no idea how to regenerate! You might not be able to!”

“I have to try.”

“No, you don't!!!”

“I need to ... I need to get better. I need to remember my family. I need to find them. He'd thank me.”

“Who!?”

“The Doctor. He'd thank me.”

“What!?”

“The Doctor ... the one you love,” the Doctor clarified, sniffing and wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “The one I'm not. The one on the video, you know? He's got this life, this really happy life, with these people who are kind and considerate. He looks at Rose like she's the answer to everything. All those diary entries, about Leah; those artefacts you and him looked through; all those stories you have and the way you talk about him like he's ... Like he's your world. I'm not him. I can never be him. I'm ... I'm sick and I'm not going to get better. 

“All these people I've met that were part of his life, Rose's Mum, Sarah, Martha, Mickey, Gwen, Ianto, you,  _ everyone,  _ you're his friends, you're not mine. You all just look at me and cry. You're all crying because you're remembering him. Everyone remembers him. Everyone except me. I can't exist like this. You want him back, and I want him back. Thank you for trying, Jack.”

He dropped the gun, and jumped over the ledge. 


	12. Dear Diary 3

**11** **th** **May 2009 (Earth time) – Leah 7 months old**

_ DEar daiREy. _

* * *

 

“DOCTOR!!!”

The Doctor spun around in alarm, his hearts leaping to his throat as he realised abruptly that Rose wasn't holding onto his hand anymore. 

He'd lost her in the crowd of screaming life-forms at the worst possible moment. The porpinx was highly dangerous, poisonous, and right now on the hunt for its dinner. Nobody got in the way of on of them, unless you had five layers of armour and a particularly large gun. Rose had a hoody and a stick of chewing gum.

Without a second thought he turned against the crowd, pushing through the oncoming tide. It was like trying to push through a brick wall.

“ROSE!” he cried again, trying desperately to scour the crowd for her blonde hair, but he couldn't see it anywhere. “ROSE!”

There was a massive roar of the Porpinx heading straight towards him, nearly deafening him. But he carried on, trying desperately to break the tide of terrified people to find Rose. As the crowd of people began to thin out he caught sight of her, lying on the ground right next to the Porpinx.

“No!” he screamed, and without any reasoning in his mind whatsoever he began to run. The bond was screaming and he was terrified, running so fast across the room to Rose ...

He dodged the Porpinx and reached her. He threw himself over her to protect her, closed his eyes, and tensed his body to prepare for pain. He wasn't disappointed. The claws raked him through his lower back as easy as tearing paper. He stayed absolutely still, playing dead despite the utter agony now coursing through his back. He had no idea what the damage was, but it felt like the Porpinx had cut right through his spine ...

He waited, waited, and waited, keeping his eyes tightly closed. The Porpinx sniffed around for a little bit, walked around him and Rose, and then galloped off after the fleeing crowd for a bigger meal.

The Doctor forced himself to wait a full ten seconds before he let a huge scream of pain rip from his lips. He hardly dared to move but had to, rolling off of Rose onto his side with more cries of anguish.

“Rose,” he gasped, already feeling the poison begin to override his system. “Rose!”

She didn't move. She had the familiar claw marks on her upper back, just catching her neck. There was so much  _ blood. _

“Don't die,” he pleaded, and steeled himself for what he had to do next. He forced himself upwards, screaming with the fire of poison washing through his blood. He screamed some more, bent down, screamed again, took Rose, and with the loudest scream yet, threw her over his shoulder. Then he began to stagger. The TARDIS was only twenty metres away, but it felt more like twenty miles with every tiny yet  _ excruciating _ step. 

His sense of time became non-existent as he fought on, step by step towards the TARDIS. She was standing there in the wall indent, tantalisingly close. He could hear her in his head, whining, begging, pushing him forward. With her support and his determination he managed to get to the door, aim his key for the lock and tumble inside.

Rose slipped out of his arms instantly and hit the floor, as did he. His shoulders were beginning to numb and the pain was receding, but that wasn't at all good. Soon his entire body would freeze up, his hearts would be paralysed and he would die. And he was resistant. If he'd fallen this far to the poison in such a short amount of time how long was it until Rose stopped breathing?

The Doctor gasped, using the holes in the grating to drag himself up the ramp towards the console, but halfway there he simply couldn't go any further, every single cell in the body as though dead in his body.

“Leah ...” he breathed out desperately, trying to yell her name. “Le-ah ...”

He looked at Rose, but she was lying there where he'd dropped her with her eyes closed. Was she even breathing?

“Leah!” he forced out, gasping for air _. “Le-ah!” _

By some miracle of creation, there came the sound of rapid small footsteps coming towards the console room. Internally the Doctor sighed a big sigh of relief, just waiting. She finally appeared around the corner of the console in her pyjamas, sucking her thumb.

“Leah,” he gasped again. “C'mere.”

“Dadda?” she asked, her eyes instantly watering.

“Help,” was all he managed to get out, even though he knew that wouldn't exactly instil any confidence in the seven-month-old. 

“Mamma?” she asked, looking at Rose lying there almost completely lifeless.

“Le ... ah, g–” The Doctor stopped abruptly. The mere effort of talking was making his head swim. He was so close to passing out ... 

“Dadda!” she wailed, toddling towards him to stand next to his head, crying. 

The Doctor suddenly couldn't get his mouth to move to tell her what to do, and she clearly didn't know. He could only lie there, hoping and praying that Leah could work out what to do next ...

“Dadda,” she sobbed, taking his limp arm and trying to pull him across the floor, but he was dead weight to her. She tried several inventive positions to move him, but he still didn't budge. “Dadda!” she cried, trying one last time and toppling over backwards instead.

_ “No, Leah, my head, please, my head ...”  _ He tried desperately to tell her on a telepathic level closest to her range, though he was pretty sure she couldn't hear him. “ _ Touch my head, please, like the game, we play the game...” _

“Dadda!!!” she screamed this time, really not understanding why her daddy couldn't talk to her or move at all, and why her mummy looked so deeply asleep. “Dadda!!! Mamma!!!”

She was crying  _ so  _ hard, big tears down a tiny, beautiful face. It nearly tore the Doctor's hearts into pairs to see her so distraught.

_ “Leah!!! Touch my head!!!”  _ he  _ screamed  _ inside his mind, his eyes fixed on hers. “ _ Daddy's head game, remember!? Play the telepathy game!!!” _

He didn't know if he'd got through, if she worked it out, or if she was just trying to touch him, but she knelt down beside him, and put her hand to his temple.

_ “Leah!”  _ he cried to her telepathically, utter relief coursing through him.  _ “The console, get the phone, call Uncle Jack! Remember how I showed you!” _

“'K ...'kay,” she sobbed out, got up and ran to the console. Everything was starting to darken in the Doctor's eyesight, and he knew he was passing out. He couldn't. He couldn't pass out. So he fought the blackness, tried desperately to stay conscious ... 

“Unka Jah!” he heard Leah cry down the phone. “Unka Jah! Come peas come now! Dadda mumma halp!”

He couldn't fight it. His eyes slipped closed, and he passed out.

* * *

 

When the Doctor woke up, panic instantly hit him. He wrenched open his eyes, but the world was too bright and blurry and his head was aching and his vision spinning so much he had to shut his eyes again immediately. His mouth was so incredibly dry, and his muscles felt like dead weight on his bones. He was cold, he could barely breathe, and the moment he  _ thought  _ he might throw up, something tried to force its way up his throat. He managed to suppress it.

“Rose?” he whined out, feeling the bond screaming inside him.

“Doc,” it was Jack, “can you open your eyes?”

“Can't,” the Doctor croaked. “Head.”

“Okay,” Jack replied, “do you know who I am?”

“Jack,” he muttered, and a flutter of panic run through him again. “Rose ... s'Leah ...?” 

The moment he uttered the names the fluttering panic turned abruptly into a crescendo. He wanted so badly to get up and find them, but none of his limbs would work.

“Doc, relax, Leah's fine,” Jack said quickly. “Rose is in a bad place but she's fighting.”

“I needa geddup, s-see 'em ...” the Doctor forced his eyes open, blinking rapidly.

“No, Doc. Trust me. We're looking after things. You need to lie down and relax.”

The Doctor continued to blink, desperately trying to get the world in focus. He could see a blurry figure that had to be Jack beside him, and as he forced his aching head to turn, the world was trailing about two seconds behind everything else.

“Doc, please, stop,” Jack said desperately. “This is serious.”

The Doctor ignored him, blinking some more. There was something going into his arm – a wire of some kind. He followed the wire-thing up and found it attached to some sort of red square thing.

“What ...” he whined, desperately trying to work it out through his spinning head.

“You told us what to do earlier, you probably don't remember you were so out of it. We've drained out all your blood and we're using your blood bags to put clean blood back in you again. You're running on less than a pint of blood,  _ please  _ stop moving, you should be dead.”

“Carn ...” the Doctor gasped. “I cun 'elp ...”

“No, you can't, just lie down and relax,” Jack practically begged. 

“B ... B ... Buh,” he gasped, but he didn't manage to finish the sentence before he passed out again.

* * *

 

When he woke up next, things had become a tiny bit clearer. He opened up his eyes, blinking through the whiteness until he partially focused on the room he was in – the TARDIS Infirmary.

His limbs seemed to be working again to at least half-capacity, so after some awkward fumbling and slipping he managed to sit up, and look around.

It was dark. He was attached to several thousand machines and a blood bag, and in the bed next to him ...

“Rose,” he muttered and tried to get up, but the side-rails were raised and he couldn't find the strength to climb over them or lower them. “Rose!” he called louder, and within moments Martha entered the room.

“Doctor!” she said quickly, running to him. “Don't move.”

“Rose ...” he whined, pointing.

“She's okay, I promise, just please don't move yet,” she begged him, resting her hands on his shoulders to guide him down. After a moment he relented to let himself lie down on the bed, and changed to trying to lick around the inside of his mouth get it hydrated.

“Doctor, do you know my name?” Martha asked gently. 

“Martha,” he murmured, surprised to find his words were a bit more comprehensible now.

“Do you know where you are?”

“Tardis.”

“Can you remember what happened to you and Rose?”

“Porpinx. Where s'Leah?”

“Jack's looking after her, so don't worry. We need to focus on you and Rose. How are you feeling?”

“Cold,” he muttered. “Thirsty.”

“Okay, I can help you with that,” she said, running off to retrieve a plastic cup of water and a blanket. He drank the entire cup of water in three gulps.

“Martha,” he breathed.

“Yeah?” 

“Coma.”

“Healing coma?”

“Need ... blood,” he moaned softly. “Eight hours.”

“Okay. I'll see you in eight hours.”

* * *

 

Waking up from a healing coma was always a strange experience. First there was feeling of breathing; the feeling of his chest rising and falling smoothly, calmly and rhythmically. Then his brain would start processing again, slowly at first, until the processes sped up like hitting the accelerator in a car. Then, with a jerk, he'd open his eyes and be instantly starving hungry.

On this occasion it was particularly abrupt. He snapped open his eyes, sat straight up, and panted for air. He looked immediately to Rose.

She still wasn't moving.

He felt fine now, so he took out all his IVs and disconnected himself from the machines, pushing down the side-rails and slipping off of the bed. He only had a pair of trousers on, so he grabbed a dressing gown from one of the hooks and put it on before moving to Rose's bedside.

“Rose?” he asked, turning her head towards him. She was incredibly pale and completely unresponsive to his voice. “C'mon,” he urged, and pressed his fingers to her temple.

“Doctor?” Jack was back, this time with Martha. 

The Doctor looked up immediately. “What's her condition?” he asked.

Martha didn't reply immediately, walking towards him to stand beside him. “Critical. I've put her in an induced coma so she doesn't wake up and force her heart to do too much beating.”

The Doctor dropped down into the chair next to the bed, running a hand down his face. “Have you used the blood conditioner?”

Martha nodded. “It's doing its work. But she's only human, Doctor. This is going to be a battle.”

“She's not going to die,” the Doctor said instantly.

“I didn't say that,” Martha replied sincerely. “It's just lucky we got to you in time. A few minutes more and you'd have both been dead.”

“How long has it been?” the Doctor asked anxiously.

“Just a day for you,” Jack explained. “Leah called me in tears. I had no idea how to get to you so I called Sarah Jane. Mr Smith used that tow rope you made to pull the Tardis back to Earth. We found you both practically dead in the doorway and Leah screaming at you.”

The Doctor swallowed, his eyes flickering to Rose in the bed before going back to Jack. “How's Leah?”

“I've kept her out of here, she doesn't understand. I managed to downplay you collapsing and she thinks you're just having a long sleep. Go and see her,” Jack said, and held out his hand to pull the Doctor upright. “We'll look after Rose. Wait for the morning.”

* * *

 

Leah was sitting on the Doctor and Rose's bed in her pyjamas, deeply engrossed in a colouring book when the Doctor entered. She looked up immediately with a beaming face and giggled in joy, crawling towards him across the bed-covers for a big hug.

“Dadda!” she exclaimed, delighted as he lifted her into the air.

“Leah!” he exclaimed, just as delighted.

“Dadda fik now?”

“Yep!” he replied, grinning. “I'm fixed and perfect. I'm always perfect. You know that!”

She giggled again, and it warmed his insides like hot soup on a cold day. “Silly billy,” she told him.

“I'm insulted!” he exclaimed with mock affront, laughing. “Ah, I love you. You did so well. I'm so proud of you.”

“Fanks,” she said sincerely.

“You're welcome.” He grinned back.

“Mumma?” Leah asked, looking around.

He tried to keep his face smiling as he set her back down on the covers. “She's gone to sleep for a while. She's really tired, okay?”

“Sees a cold.”

“What?”

“See gosa cold?”

The Doctor realised immediately that Rose having a cold was Jack's entire explanation to Leah for what had happened. “Oh, yes. She has a cold. Like you a month ago with all your big Rudolph red nose and buckets of snot coming out.”

“Gross!” she laughed. 

“Honestly, I thought the Tardis was going to get flooded with your snot it was so much. I imagined waking up and wading through it to go to the toilet.”

She giggled again. “Bebyes now,” she informed him.

“Good idea,” he replied, moving around to get into bed, pulling Leah in next to him. 

“Ahh,” she suddenly said, sitting up again and searching beneath her to pull out a diary. “What?” she wondered.

“Oh,” the Doctor realised, his hearts freezing simultaneously. “Mummy's diary.”

“Wazzat?”

“It's a book you write in every night to record your day, so when you're older you can look back at it and remember what you did.” He took the diary, flipping to the current date where the page was blank. “I know,” he said, pulling out the pen. “Let's write in it for Mummy so she doesn't miss a day.”

“Okay,” Leah replied, taking the pen. He rested his hand around her's to subtly guide her writing as they lowered pen to paper.

* * *

 

_ MuMa sik wiva KOld. She goin sleap fOr abit. _

_ LeAh and DaDDa x _

 


	13. Whatever Happened to Mr Toad?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The members of Torchwood reflect on their failings after the Doctor’s suicide attempt.

The Doctor was  _ somehow _ still alive.

He was lying on the bed having a small seizure with blood coming out of his ears and cerebrospinal fluid gushing out of his nose that Gwen was repeatedly wiping away so he wouldn't choke on it. His right arm and his right leg were fractured, probably his ribs too, his shoulder was dislocated, his neck was in a brace with a suspected fracture with possibly even a fracture to his spine, and his head was  _ covered _ in blood. 

Jack couldn't speak, and to be frank he felt like throwing up. He'd done this. He'd let this happen. This was  _ his fault. _

“Get out of the way!” Martha yelled, pushing him aside as she ran around the bed. “Clear out!!!”

Jack didn't move, not listening to anything but the Doctor's gargled breathing. He wanted to just die where he stood. He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. But his messed up head couldn't decide which one was the better option.

It wasn't until Ianto took his arm, pulling him away from Martha's territory did he wake up slightly, and realise he'd been standing there for a solid ten minutes in complete silence.

“Jack,” Ianto said softly, hugging and kissing him. “Calm down.”

“I can't ... I don't know what to do,” Jack whined, completely vulnerable.

“He's the Doctor, he'll be okay,” Ianto assured him. 

Jack just nodded, trying desperately not to cry. The Doctor had been hurt many times before – everything in the past five years that had made him bedridden and reduced him to rubble – but this time it was different. A very vulnerable, very naïve and childlike-man who was struggling to process a world unfamiliar to him had found his only reasoning in jumping off of a building in an attempt to kill himself and regenerate. And Jack had failed to stop him.

“Jackie's here,” Ianto suddenly said.

The words hit Jack like bullets. He couldn't face Jackie. Not now. Not like this. But Ianto pulled him along, to the Hub door where Jackie was waiting with a very tired-looking Tony.

“What the 'ell's goin' on!?” she demanded to know.

Jack felt strangely distant when he replied, as though someone else was talking entirely. “He jumped ... He jumped off a ... He just jumped.”

"What? He jumped off of a what!?"

"A building ..." 

Jackie's eyes widened instantly, shocked and furious at the same time. "How high!?"

"Thirty, forty feet ..."

"How could you let him do that!?" she screamed in his face.

Jack swallowed. "I don't ..."

"Why did he do it!?"

Jack's voice was breaking, his eyes watering. "We were ... I.."

"I thought 'e was your friend! I thought you were lookin' after 'im!"

"I know, I ..."

"You just let 'im jump off a roof!? What kind of friend  _ are _ you!?"

Jack was both angry and incredibly upset, nearing his bursting point now. "A seriously bad one, all right!?”

“I'll say you are!” she screamed in return. “You should have seen the warnin' signs! This is all your fault!”

“I  _ know  _ this is my fault!!!” Jack yelled back. “You don't need to keep telling me cos I  _ know,  _ all right!? I  _ know!!!” _

Jackie stopped talking, too angry to continue. At least until she swallowed, gathering herself together, and asked her next question, “... is he dead?”

“Not yet,” Jack replied quietly.

“I wanna see 'im.”

“You can't go in there, Martha's busy,” Ianto said quickly.

“He's my son-in-law!” Jackie shrieked, firing up again within a nanosecond. “He's my grandchildren’s father, he's part of my family whether he remembers it or not! It's my right to see 'im!”

“Please, Jackie,” Jack whined. “Wait.”

“No!” she barged straight past him, leaving Tony at the door and striding across the Hub to the medbay. She entered it just in time to find her son-in-law unconsciously vomiting and nearly choking on it.

“Oh god!” she exclaimed, shocked at the sight of him lying there so utterly mangled. “Oh god!” she managed again, and instantly began to hyperventilate.

“Jackie, get out!” Martha yelled, trying to clear the vomit away from his mouth. 

“Jackie!” Jack urged from behind her, taking her carefully and pulling her back out. “Stay away.”

“Oh god,” she whined, and began to cry. “Oh god, Jack!”

He couldn't help it then. He drew her into a hug, and began to cry too. And he didn't want to stop.

* * *

 

Martha had found a drug she could safely give him to put him in a coma, and so far he'd been asleep for two weeks as his broken body started to heal. She did scans every day to see how he was doing – something that had become a daily event at 10am for everyone to attend. However, the dirty fact remained that however quickly his body healed there was still a giant, unspoken question mark hovering over him about the fractured state of his soul. 

It was a Monday, and Jackie was in to see him again. She'd been into Torchwood every day to sit by his side, holding his hand. Everyone had; it had almost become an unspoken rota. When somebody left, someone would arrive, so he wasn't left alone for more than ten minutes.

All of the anger, all of the shock and the blame had melted away now into just pure  _ guilt, _ and everyone felt responsible for having some part in it. A Gallifreyan, one of the most scarce yet important creatures ever to wander the universe; an alien who was their best friend, with children who openly called them all uncles and aunts. He was Torchwood's best comrade and ally and he was currently lying in a bed in an underground secret base in a coma because they couldn't look after him when he was down.

Jackie blamed herself for shouting at him that morning and starting the chain reaction of horrific events. Martha blamed herself for letting things get to that extreme when Jack had clearly needed respite. Just about everyone else blamed themselves for getting lost to go home when the hours had ended, and Jack blamed himself the most. He'd adopted the cloak of blame willingly for not reading the signs and just letting him walk out of the Hub and jump. Jackie had been right. What kind of friend  _ was  _ he?

However much guilt any of them felt for whatever reasons they could conjure up still didn't change the fact that the Doctor had come extremely close to dying. He had been so close to death so many times before but this time it was  _ incredibly _ personal for every single one of them. Under their responsibility this had happened, and now they all needed to repent.

Jackie chose to do it by reading from books to him. When Jack and Martha walked in that morning she was holding his hand, reading from Tony's Wind in the Willows book. Martha moved to do her duties and for a while Jack just stared at him lying there. The damage had lightened slightly, but the black eyes signifying his head injury and the purple bruises and deep lacerations down the right side of his face where he'd met the ground were still there for the world to see. His right arm and leg were in casts, bandages were wrapped around his head and his neck was in a brace. He didn't have a shirt on so the coating of bruises on his fractured ribs were obvious too. The only solace, and partial miracle, was that he hadn't done anything to his spinal cord. Jack found it so incredibly sickening how the only good thing he could come up with in this whole mess was that he hadn't told the Doctor that it took more than thirty feet to kill a Gallifreyan, otherwise he might've found a higher building to jump off of.

Jackie broke off mid-read, looking up at Martha. “Are we wakin' 'im up?” 

“Yes,” Martha informed her. “It shouldn't take him long to come out.”

Jackie nodded. “Will he be groggy and that?”

“We've done this before, he's usually pretty sharp when he comes around for the first time,” Martha replied. “Unless he's got some brain damage. It's probably best if everyone stays back.”

Jackie nodded, obeying immediately and moving back to stand next to Jack as Martha did her work. It was a matter of a minute until the Doctor opened his eyes, ever so slightly.

“Hi, Doctor,” Martha said softly, resting a hand carefully on his face. “You've been in an accident. Can you remember my name?”

“Martha,” he croaked, and instantly whined as he realised his predicament, trying to get up. 

Martha kept him down. “Stay still. You've done a lot of damage to yourself. You've got some casts on and some tubes going in and out that are helping. I need to check whether you've got any brain damage. Do you know where you are?”

“T-Torchwood ...”

“How many fingers am I holding up?” She held up five fingers so he could see them.

“Five.”

“What was the first question I asked you?”

“You ... You asked me w-what your ... your n-name was.”

“And how many fingers did I hold up?”

“Five ...”

Martha looked back at Jack and Jackie, who were looking incredibly relieved. At least his short-term memory was still intact. “Do you remember what happened?”

“Yeah ... Jumped,” he answered, struggling to form words correctly. “Did I do it?”

“Do what?”

“Regen ... regene ... r-rate?”

“No. We saved you in time.”

“... Why did you s-save me?” he whined. It was a sentence that simultaneously killed everyone's hearts in their chests. 

“Because regeneration isn't the solution,” Martha told him firmly.

“But ... But I'll fix,” he replied, tears creeping into the edges of his eyes. “I don't under ...understand. Please let me f-fix.”

“It's not the answer.”

“Why won't you let me die?” the Doctor croaked, tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Stop saying that,” Jack moaned quietly, head in his hands.

Jackie glanced at Jack, then Martha. “Can I talk to 'im alone a second?”

They both looked a little surprised, but nodded and left the room. Jackie moved forward to the Doctor, leaning over to meet his eyes. “Sweetheart, listen to me. You don't want to regenerate.”

“Why n-not?”

“You used to have big ears and this northern accent. You travelled the universe with Rose for so long, until one day it went wrong. You were 'urt and you regenerated. When you regenerate you turn into a new person. Your face changed and your body changed into what you are now, and you went mad and crashed your ship right outside my flat, almost killin' the both of you. You garbled somethin' out, you were crazy, and then you collapsed, went into a coma and bloody well nearly died again. Rose is strong but she cried, Doctor. She cried a lot. Cried for you, because she didn't know who the mad guy was that 'ad replaced the one she knew.

“You saved Earth of course cos that's what you do, and that night after dinner we all 'ad a talk. She accepted you again with a different face, but she was a bit scared too. She asked you loads of questions to check it was really you. You promised 'er that you'd try your best never to change your face with 'er again. She went to bed, and I asked you how you'd died. You told me it was to save Rose's life. You'd died for 'er, Doctor, and it wasn't just some kinda collateral damage cos you have a limit of how many times you can regenerate. You told me when it 'appens it's the worst pain you could ever imagine. And you didn't think twice about savin' my Rose and goin' through that. You promised me that you'd try your best to make sure it never 'appened again too. You asked me not to tell Rose what you'd done for 'er cos she didn't remember what 'ad 'appened. I swore I wouldn't. I dunno if you ever told 'er, but I don't think you ever did. You never told her you gave your life for 'er.

“I don't know everythin' about your regeneratin' thing but from what I know there's no way it'll fix you. It'll make you worse. Rose told me for months after you were sufferin' for it. She said you'd explained it to her, it's killin' every cell in your body and making new ones. You have to be mentally prepared for it or somethin'. It needs trainin' and practise in a controlled settin'. She said that you said it was like bein' a talented violin player. You have that ability to do it but without practise it won't work, unless you're really lucky, 'cos you're not very good at it compared to other Time Lords. So if you try and kill yourself, I think right now you'll stay dead, Doctor. And I can't let that happen. You've got a family to look after. I'm not lettin' my grandkids grow up without a dad, and I'm not lettin' Rose bring 'em up without you. Cos I've been through that and it's 'ard enough with one kid, never mind three. Please don't think it's the solution, cos it's really not. You're worth so much to everyone and there's too much to lose by losin' you.”

The Doctor stared at her, tears still rolling down his cheeks. She just smiled at him, wiping them away with her thumb.

“Think about it, love,” she said. “God knows I'd never say this to the old you but I really care about you and I can't bear to watch you like this. I can't exactly stop you chuckin' yourself off a buildin' again but I'm beggin' you. Please don't give up. You've got too much to just throwaway. I do love you, you know. I know I don't show it but I think you need to 'ear it right now. Okay?”

“Okay,” he croaked.

“Thank you,” she replied, kissing his bandaged forehead. “Do you want anythin'?”

“Yeah,” he muttered, closing his bruised eyes. “I wanna ... I wanna know wh-what ... what happens to Mr T-toad?”

Jackie suddenly burst out laughing, quite a surprise to both her and the Doctor. “Okay, sweetheart,” she said, and opened the book again. “Now where was I?”

* * *

 

50,341 light-years away on the planet Haxun One, the Penthouse Bar was incredibly rowdy. 

It was the eve of the Festival of Stars and the nightlife was booming on the tiny inner world. Hundreds of drunk lifeforms were crowding the light-bar screaming their orders and hundreds more were out on the dance-floor strutting their stuff to the latest novelty song release from DJ Klixon. 

Tchan was getting sick of this shift. He  _ really _ wasn't paid enough for it – the stress, the crowds and the various levels of species hygiene were beginning to drive him crazy. Night after night he had to stand in the tide of inebriated aliens, trying to be polite and serve hyper-drinks but only receiving pure abuse in return.

He'd had enough. He whipped off his cap and hid it under the bar, deciding just for a while he was going to take an unscheduled break. He ducked out of the bar area and through a side-exit to the outside.

Mondays were scheduled for artificial cold nights, and compared to the inside there were very few people out here. A crowd of lively Shamboni were by a tube light chatting loudly about who had a crush on who and other incredibly dull things, and there was a lone, cloaked figure sitting at one of the tables in silence, a hand on a glass of water.

Thinking nothing of it, he drew out his vone and checked his umails. Nothing. No, wait... one, from his friend on Zazurox.

**PLEASE REPLY!!!** was the subject line. He frowned, and opened the umail to reveal a portion of text from the Universal News Network.

**Two hours ago another death rocked the Shadow Proclamation as the fifth, sixth and seventh members of the 12-strong hierarchy were killed in an explosion. The Shadow Proclamation have broken their silence and issued a universal mauve alert; an alert only previously used two times before for the Time War, and the legendary universal serial killer L-cki'na Kiz-la-ta. The Shadow Proclamation are not detailing the exact nature of the mauve alert, but are warning the universe to be on high alert. Residents of Haxun Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven and Twelve are being ordered under a curfew and Haxun One is being evacuated.**

Tchan blinked in complete surprise, unable to believe what he had just read. Almost immediately the lone figure sitting at the table rose from their seat and jumped over the rail in a flash of black cloak onto the next building.

“What!?” Tchan gasped, launching forward immediately and nearly dropping his vone in shock as the figure ran across the buildings as easily as skipping large rocks.

Suddenly that wasn't even a problem any more. There was a massive ship coming down from the sky – Tchan recognised it as a Judoon ship. Presumably here for the evacuation ... right?

Wrong. As he stood there staring at the sight, the Judoon ship landed right in the middle of Xan Square, breaking the fountain into pieces. Then Judoon began to march out of their ship in all directions, guns in hand.

And then the screaming started.

“Shintaka'e!” Tchan swore in absolute horror. He couldn't see much, but he could see enough to tell that this wasn't an evacuation. Not even close. This was a  _ mass execution. _

Instantly Tchan could barely breathe. Sweaty suckers on his hand tried desperately to grip his vone, but he was only halfway through typing the umail when the Judoon began to near the bar. He shrieked in alarm and immediately dropped the vone, backing away in terror from the advancing Judoon and reaching the rail behind him. He looked back at the thirty feet of sheer nothing separating him and ground, and then back at the Judoon as they reached the crowd of Shamboni ...

“Charge; undisclosed. Plea; guilty. Sentence; execution.”

All five Shamboni were simultaneously executed on the spot before they could have even realised what was happening.

Then the Judoon turned to Tchan.

“Kashi!!!” he swore as they got nearer and nearer, their guns raised ..

There was only one thing to do.

He jumped over the rails, and dived desperately for the next building. He just about managed it through sheer force of will for survival, gripping the edge with his sucker-fingers and hauling himself up onto the roof. The black-cloaked figure was rapidly becoming a spot in the distance.

“Wait!!!” he called desperately, stumbling after them. He had no idea why he was following them, but to be honest all good ideas had flown out of the window in his state of complete and utter confusion and terror. “Help me, please!”

The figure suddenly stopped, and turned back towards him. Utter relief flooded him as he made to jump to the next building towards the figure, but the Judoon were an incredibly good shot. A searing pain shot through his back and the next thing he knew he was on his front, choking and gasping. 

The figure was already standing above him, holding something up to shield him. Then they tapped something on their wrist, grabbed his arm, and Tchan blacked out.


	14. The Return of Cujo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another bounty hunter infiltrates Torchwood, and sheds some light on the Doctor’s amnesia.

A month after the fall, and the Doctor was still in the med-bay.

It was 2am, and once again Jack was sitting vigilant by the Doctor's bedside to wake him up before he went into one of his nightmares. He'd done this every night for two weeks whilst the Doctor was bedridden, and not once had the thought of complaining ever crossed his mind. He owed it to the Doctor. Sacrificing a few hour's sleep each night was of no consequence to Jack anymore if it meant the Doctor would be okay. 

He was starting to doze slightly, so keeping his hand in the Doctor's, he let it take him – until his manipulator started quietly buzzing, waking him up abruptly. That was the silent intruder alarm.

He let go of the Doctor's hand to check his gun was loaded, getting up out of his seat and moving quietly up the stairs. He pressed himself back against the wall, peering cautiously around the corner.

Something black flashed near the Hub door. It could only be another bounty hunter. Jack took a cautious step forward, checking in absolutely every direction. He was the only one here. If the bounty hunter got him, then the Doctor would be completely vulnerable.

He caught something dark in his vision, and using the steps for cover Jack silently watched as the black figure came into his direct line of sight, unaware of Jack's presence. The figure was checking something on its wrist, and kept glancing in the direction of the medbay. Jack shuffled slightly to get a better vantage position.

His shuffle turned out to be much louder than he thought. The grating under his feet groaned suddenly under his weight, and bounty hunter looked straight up at him.

Then all hell broke loose.

A voice suddenly cried out his name, and Jack turned in alarm to find the Doctor was standing up, leaning precariously on the medbay railings holding his side and staring straight at Jack with wide eyes.

“Run, Doctor!” Jack yelled back, and took a shot at the bounty hunt er. It was only meant to serve as a distraction and it  _ did _ work long enough for the Doctor to get up the steps, but the distraction quite horrendously backfired when the bounty hunter took the distraction for himself, and shot Jack right through the head.

* * *

 

“No!” the Doctor screamed as Jack hit the floor, and instantly the bounty hunter turned on him; barely metres away. The Doctor began to limp desperately away, but he was severely impaired by his injuries and the bounty hunter simply strolled after him, even taking the time to leisurely look through his weapons to find the most appropriate one to kill him – eventually settling on a shotgun.

The Doctor just ran. Every part of him was in pain but he tried desperately to ignore it, hurling himself down the steps so fast he tumbled over and ended up sprawled out on the floor, screaming in agony. He looked over his shoulder, panting with fear and pain, but the hunter was still there standing at the top of the steps, just staring down at him with a cool, measured gaze. 

The Doctor scrambled to his feet again and limped urgently to the left into a corridor. He went left again into the cells, his leg screaming in so much pain he had to resort to hopping down the aisle, until he reached that creature locked in the cells again.

He stopped and hopped forward to the controls of the door, hammering in Jack's most likely combination. The door opened on the first try and he started hopping again as the creature came out of the cell, looking around with interest. The door burst open and the Doctor looked back just in time to see the bounty hunter enter and meet the creature head on. He watched as the bounty hunter faltered, yelping in alarm as the creature dived straight for the throat. The hunter managed a shot that caught the creature with pure luck more than anything, and it flopped to the floor.

The bounty hunter looked up, straight at the Doctor still standing, paralysed, down the end of the aisle. The hunter took aim.

The Doctor turned and fled again, taking a right and running forward into a room he'd never been before. It was stacked high with broken equipment and machinery on parcel shelves, files strewn across the floor that he nearly slipped up on in his haste. He grabbed every parcel shelf and threw it back to try to hinder his pursuer in utter desperation as he continued through the maze, left, right, up, down, until he reached ...

A dead end.

He turned slowly, gasping for air as the hunter reached him, blocking any way out. The hunter already knew it had won, even taking the time to check its wrist strap for a few seconds before it raised the gun to the Doctor.

“Please don't,” the Doctor whined, squeezing his eyes tightly shut.

The hunter suddenly spoke, a strange deep voice that someone commanded completely authority. “I would like to know where Echo is, please.”

“I don't know what you're talking about!”

“I would like it if you didn't waste my time, I'm on a schedule,” the hunter continued calmly. “If you know nothing then I will have to kill you. For which I apologise, but I'm afraid it is company policy.”

“Please don't! I just know that when I had my memory I got a note that said the reign of Echo would begin, and then I lost my memory of who I am, and I don't know what that means!” the Doctor begged, all in one sentence in a single breath.

“Hmm,” the bounty hunter said, frowning for a moment. “You don't know who you are?”

“No!”

“Interesting,” the bounty hunter muttered, and gazed straight into the Doctor's eyes. “You do not know of the Proclamation massacre twelve years ago, then? I must say, I was quite surprised to see you still alive.”

The Doctor stayed completely still and silent, sheer force of will somehow keeping his eyes open.

“You must be feeling confused,” the bounty hunter continued. “I do apologise. I'm just doing my job. You understand, don't you?”

The Doctor drew a breath through his terror and the pain in his battered body, still staring at the gun raised to him. He tried to speak but couldn't even manage a syllable as the bounty hunter steadied his aim.

“Do not worry. I will tell the universe of your honourable death, Doctor.”

Its finger moved towards the trigger.

* * *

 

Jack came back to life, to meet with the sight of Ianto holding Cujo on a leash, who was licking Jack's face like an eager child with an ice cream. Almost immediately the memories hit him and he sat up bolt upright, eyes wide.

“Yan? What the hell are you doing here!?” he gasped, scrambling to his feet using Ianto as leverage.

“The silent alarm went off, I thought you might need some help,” Ianto replied simply. “But we need to move.”

“What?”

In reply Ianto pointed at the floor, and Jack followed his indication to see a pattern of blood forming a path from the empty medbay and through his Jack's office towards the cells. Still slightly dazed Jack whipped out his gun and followed the trail, utterly terrified of what he'd find at the end.

* * *

 

Just as the hunter went to fire, there was a massive crashing sound from the entrance and they both looked up to realise the creature from the cells had returned. The hunter yelped in alarm again and tried to aim, but the creature had already launched on the hunter from behind to go for the throat. The hunter was overwhelmed, and the creature promptly began to tear the body apart in a cacophony of screams.

The Doctor couldn't take it. As the bounty hunter's insides became outsides, as blood flew everywhere, and as he stood transfixed at the sight before him, he couldn't keep his breath under control. He began to hyperventilate, falling back against the wall as he progressively became more and more covered in the blood spraying everywhere.

The creature finished what it was doing very quickly, the bounty hunter now well and truly dead and in several places on the floor. It turned towards the Doctor, baring its blood covered fangs.

The Doctor's emotions went into overload. He tried desperately to get air through the incredible shock, overwhelming fear and excruciating pain, but he couldn't manage it. As less and less air got into his lungs he became more and more dizzy, things becoming more and more blurry as the creature moved directly towards him.

* * *

 

Jack had heard the harrowing screams, and he had soon worked out why when he'd run through the cells and found Janet was out. This made him run even faster; utterly petrified. He followed the trail of blood from the wounded Doctor through a maze of corridors before finally reaching the archive room, and finding a complete mess.

Blood, files and pieces of equipment were everywhere. Body parts of the hunter were strewn out across the room and the obvious cause of it all was standing in front of the Doctor. He was hyperventilating and shrunk back into the corner, on the edge of passing out.

“Janet!” Jack warned, raising his gun to the weevil. The weevil immediately turned at the noise, blood caked down her front. Jack could see she was injured. “Janet, get away from him!”

She didn't move, just looking at him and twisting her head slowly to and fro. Jack boldly took a step forward, and she gave a warning growl that would've chilled even a block of ice. Jack couldn't quite believe it as he began to work the situation out. Janet wasn't attacking the Doctor. She had all the opportunity in the world to. So why wasn't she doing it? 

“Janet, I need to help him, he's bleeding,” Jack murmured quietly, stepping ever so slowly towards the Doctor. “Let me get to him.”

Janet seemed to hesitate. Jack took another step forward. This time, she didn’t growl, so he took another step, and then another. The room was almost completely silent, save for the Doctor’s laboured, panicked breathing, and Jack’s slow, deliberate steps.

He neared the Doctor. Janet suddenly growled, staring straight at Jack. The Doctor flinched. Jack was astounded. Janet was actually  _ protecting  _ the Doctor.

“You’ve gotta come to me,” Jack told the Doctor. “So she knows you’re okay with it.”

“I can’t move,” the Doctor said, his voice cracking. 

“It’s okay. If you come to me, it’s okay. She’s not gonna hurt you,” Jack assured him, and tentatively stretched out his hand. He gazed into the Doctor’s eyes. The Doctor, slowly, moved forward.

There was a small 'pft' and Jack looked over to see Ianto standing there with a powerful tranquilliser gun pointed straight at Janet. Seconds later she hit the floor, fast asleep.

Jack immediately put away his gun and turned his full attentions to the Doctor, grabbing his shoulders and straightening him up. “Doctor, Doctor, talk to me.”

“Jack,” the Doctor breathed, unfocused eyes panning over him. “But you ... you died ... he ... he shot you in the head ...”

“Concrete, remember?” Jack grinned, knocking his head with his fist. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” the Doctor replied, clearly not.

“No, you're not,” Jack told him firmly. “Let's get out of here and have a clean up. Yan, get Janet secured and call Martha.”

* * *

 

“You're certain that's what he said?” 

“Yeah,” the Doctor replied, lying on his back on the bed, well aware of everyone staring at him in stunned silence. “And he said he was surprised to see me alive.”

“I wonder what happened twelve years ago ... This massacre I mean?” Martha mused as she restitched his reopened wound.

“No idea,” Jack muttered. “But sounds like you only just about got out, Doctor. Maybe this memory thing is a good thing. Maybe you were just lucky to get out.”

“Maybe,” the Doctor muttered. He'd calmed down in a very short amount of time after Martha had given him some painkillers; his chaotic head dulled a little by the drugs. “Can you teach me something?” he suddenly asked, looking up at Jack.

Jack looked at him. “What?”

“I want to know how to fight.”

Jack frowned. “What?”

“I ... I was looking at that bounty hunter when he was shooting you thinking ... I could do something. But I couldn't. I ... I didn't know what to do. I need to know how to fight. For the future.”

“What's the future?”

In reply the Doctor drew out the photos he'd kept with him from under the pillow – the ones Jack had given him of his family. “I need to find them.”

“Really?” Jack asked softly, staring at them.

“Yeah. I might not be able to remember my family but I'm not abandoning them.”

Jack spread a smile at his words. “I just heard the Doctor. Okay, you're on. But when you're healed. Do you ...” Jack suddenly stopped, really having to psyche himself up for his next words. “Do you still want to ... regenerate?”

“No,” the Doctor replied. 

Martha and Jack simultaneously sighed in relief.

“Jack.” Ianto entered with Cujo still on a lead. 

The Doctor's eyes widened immediately, sitting up with a wince and backing up on the bed. “What's that?” he asked, pointing.

“Dog,” Jack replied, patting Cujo on the head. “He's called Cujo. I tried to train him up to be the Torchwood dog but he's too much of a big softie so Yan keeps him at home. What's up?” he asked Ianto. 

“I was wondering ...” Ianto paused, clearly not wanting to say his next words. “... If you wanted me to ... you know. Clean up.”

Jack shook his head immediately. “No, I'll do that. You two be okay while I'm gone?” he directed to Martha and the Doctor.

“We're fine,” Martha assured him as the Doctor continued to stare at Cujo. Jack noticed.

“He won't hurt you,” Jack said, laughing. “Not a single unloving bone in that dog's body. Give him a stroke.”

“Umm ...” the Doctor said, slightly apprehensive.

Ianto took Cujo off of his lead, and the happy dog bounded straight to the Doctor, jumping up and down continuously with his tongue hanging out. The Doctor looked a little terrified but incredibly bewildered at the same time. 

Jack just laughed, and left.

* * *

 

Jack returned to the scene where the ex-bounty hunter was still strewn out across the room. 

The Doctor must've watched every second of it from where he had been standing.

It was almost sickening Jack that the sight of this wasn't  _ actually _ sickening him – he was clearly far too used to seeing bodies like this. He simply stepped through the mess to get to the main area of the body, and knelt down to rummage in the pockets. He wasn't really expecting to find anything but he was praying all the same. He was about to give up when he finally happened on a piece of paper, and he pulled it out and opened it.

**By order of the Shadow Proclamation**

**The Shadow Proclamation hereby orders the capture of the individual known as 'Echo', to be executed under article 3.4 for offences of serial homicide for SP 3,000,000,000 currency and universal equivalent.**

**'Echo' may be captured dead or alive.**

It concluded with the seal of the Shadow Proclamation and eight signatures of the surviving hierarchy.

This didn't make any sense. The Doctor wasn't Echo, but the bounty hunters were tracking Echo to him. It was probably via the tracking chip they couldn't extract. But who was Echo? Why were they killing the Shadow Proclamation? What exactly was the link here that he couldn't see? What identity was on the tracker chip? What had happened at the Proclamation twelve years ago?

At least Jack was getting pretty certain about one thing. Whoever Echo was and whatever reason they had to kill the Shadow Proclamation one by one, they were most likely the one that did this to the Doctor. They had him cornered, wiped his mind and stuck the tracking chip in him to divert the bounty hunters. They'd destroyed his mind without a care and used him as pawn in their grand plans.

By no means was it the  _ right _ explanation, but it was the best Jack had.


	15. Man Instinct

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They go shopping for new clothes for the Doctor, before Jack teaches him how to fight.

The weeks passed quickly. Jack spent his time out of the medbay trying to reroute the power of the rift to form an outer shield to the Hub, to stop any more bounty hunters from entering unannounced. After two weeks he'd managed it, completing the circuit on the day the Doctor ate his first dinner with everyone for six weeks. 

He barely ate the food, but it didn't even matter. Everyone chatted and laughed, sharing gossip and anecdotes together. It was almost like how it used to be.

The next day Martha took off the last of his casts and replaced them with bandages, warning him not to do anything to break his bones again or he'd have to face her wrath, before Jack whisked him off to go clothes shopping, as the Doctor was still wearing all of Jack's clothes, which were far too large for him. 

The worst part was trying to find out what size he wore. Jackie's tried and tested method of measuring tape and the back of an Argos catalogue told a very different story to the actual shops, so they were repeatedly moving between sizes to try and find the one that fitted him the best.

“Is this what everyone does?” the Doctor wondered as he came out of the dressing room for the sixteenth time in a collared shirt. “Because I'm really bored.”

“Yep,” Jackie affirmed, checking the fit on him.

“It's what women do,” Mickey explained. 

“All day. Just go in, change, come back out, talk a bit about their hips and the whole thing repeats itself,” Jack added.

“They can go for days,” Mickey said, Jack nodding in agreement.

“Oi!” Jackie disparaged, rolling her eyes. “We 'aven't even got on to choosin' anythin' yet.”

“God save us,” Jack muttered under his breath.

“You can shut up and all,” Jackie replied, still checking the Doctor.

“I'm bored,” the Doctor whined after a few moments.

“Are you sure you've lost your memory?” Jackie asked seriously. “You're exactly the same. Rose said she took you clothes shoppin' once and you threatened to throw a tantrum when she'd only been in two shops.”

“I think it's more of a normal male animal response to this situation,” Jack put in.

“Yeah, it's his man instinct,” Mickey agreed.

“You can't argue with biology,” Jack added.

“Bloody men!” Jackie sighed, writing something down on her notepad. “Right, I think I got the sizes. Go and get changed.”

“Again!?” the Doctor wailed, and walked back into the changing rooms dragging his feet like a moody teenager.

Jackie looked incredulous. Jack and Mickey both just snorted with laughter.

“I was thinkin' somethin' smart,” Jackie said, changing the subject. “Like a shiny grey suit all ironed, a lovely frilly shirt and bow tie, with posh shoes, nice and polished.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Hey, memory or no memory he's still my best friend, and as a best friend I am  _ not  _ letting you dress him like someone from Hairspray.”

Jackie harrumphed. “Fine, what do you suggest?”

“How about whatever he wants?” Mickey wondered.

“Don't be ridiculous,” Jackie dismissed. “Men can't dress themselves, amnesia or not.”

Jack rolled his eyes as the Doctor reappeared next to them, adjusting his shirt. “C'mon, Doc. Just five hours to go.”

“That long?” the Doctor moaned. Jack and Mickey laughed again, both knowing full well how much Jackie wanted to have a go at him but wasn't able to.

“Just bloody move!” she said with a sigh instead, and started off to the door.

“Where are we going?” Jack called after her.

“Clothes shop!” she responded.

Mickey blinked, looking around their current surroundings.  _ “This  _ is a clothes shop!”

“They're tacky!” Jackie yelled back, causing the entire shop to hush, turn and stare at her. “What!?” she demanded, her Jackie-fiery-eyes-of-death (as the Doctor had dubbed them) flaring up. Instantly they all turned and pretended to be looking through clothes. She strutted out of the shop.

“I thought she was really nice until now” the Doctor muttered, staring after her with wide eyes.

Jack laughed at his expression, and guided him towards the door with his arm. “Let's go.”

They stepped out into the shopping centre, deciding where to go next. Jackie was already marching off through the crowd towards H&M, so Jack guided the Doctor to follow.

He was a little nervous of the Saturday morning crowds, Jack could tell. So he gestured for Mickey to go in the front to carve the way through, but that didn't seem to help. It was Jack who decided to bail first, pulling them all to dive out of the crowd and stand away.

“Jack,” the Doctor whined, staying close to his friend. “Everyone's staring at me. I don't like it.”

Jack followed his gaze, and realised that people  _ were  _ staring at him. He then looked back at the Doctor, standing there still covered in bruises and cuts with his two black eyes, healing, but still very prominent.

“Got an idea,” Jack said quickly, guiding them to the outside of another shop. “Look after him,” he told Mickey. “Back in a second.”

He disappeared into the shop.

“What's he doing?” the Doctor asked.

“No idea,” Mickey responded. 

“Why you standin' here!? H and M have got a sale on!” Jackie's voice came from afar, and they both turned to see her marching towards them.

“The Doctor's uncomfortable, Jack's had an idea,” Mickey told her.

“What's wrong, sweetheart?” Jackie asked anxiously, looking at the Doctor.

The Doctor's eyes flickered across the shopping centre again. “People are ... staring at me.”

Jackie turned, and indeed saw several people staring at the Doctor, pointing and whispering. 

She fumed instantly. “What you all  _ bloody  _ starin' at, eh!?”

They scattered immediately.

“... You're really scary,” the Doctor muttered, staring at her.

“Got 'em!” Jack had returned, carrying a pair of aviator sunglasses. He reached up and put them on the Doctor to shield most of his bruised face. “Better?”

The Doctor touched them for a moment, looking around in wonder and waving his hand in front of his eyes. “Everything went dark,” he eventually said.

Everyone laughed.

“You're a cool guy, now,” Jack joked.

“You look like you're in Top Gun. You know Top Gun?” Jackie wondered. Jack was about to interrupt, thinking that was a slightly ridiculous notion, but the Doctor got there first.

“Film from 1986, directed by Tony Scott and starring Tom Cruise, Val Kilmer and Kelly McGillis with a running time of 110 minutes?” he asked.

Everyone's jaws simultaneously dropped.

“Pardon?” Jackie asked, astonished.

“That's right, isn't it?” the Doctor wondered.

“Um ... yeah,” Jack said, frowning. “How do you know that?”

“I dunno, I just do,” the Doctor replied, shrugging slightly.

“You mean it's just in your head?” Jack asked, glancing at Jackie and Mickey.

“Yeah. Or maybe because I saw it in your DVD collection and I read the back,” the Doctor added, grinning slightly.

Jack instantly realised, and laughed. “You just made a joke.”

The Doctor's grin widened, and they all felt incredibly warmed by it. 

“I'm hungry,” Mickey suddenly announced.

“We can't break for lunch yet!” Jackie insisted, tapping her watch on her wrist. “We're on a schedule, 'ere!”

“I'm hungry too,” Jack agreed, like two small children out to irritate their mother.

“I said no!”

The Doctor looked at Mickey and Jack, pulling a smile before looking back at Jackie. “I'm hungry as well,” he said.

Jackie sighed. “Oh fine, let's have lunch.”

She disappeared back into the heaving crowd.

Jack looked at the Doctor. “Are you even hungry?”

“No,” the Doctor replied, still grinning. He clearly knew full well that while he was like this Jackie would cater for his every whim.

“First lie!” Jack said, looking at Mickey. They both laughed, before trying to find Jackie again.

* * *

 

Jack lost the Doctor at precisely 8:30pm. He knew this because after ten minutes of the Doctor getting every scientific question right on University Challenge Jack had slipped into sleep, and woken up at the end credits to find that the Doctor wasn't sitting next to him anymore.

Slightly flustered he found Martha in the main Hub, sitting at a computer next to Mickey.

“Martha? You seen the Doctor?” Jack asked anxiously.

Martha laughed at his expression. “Relax, he went down to the supply stores.”

“Oh,” Jack said, breathing out a sigh of relief, before frowning. “Why?”

“He said he wanted to look through some more stuff to get his brain working.”

“Oh, okay,” Jack said, and left her and Mickey to go down to the supply stores.

He wasn't there. He'd lied again.

Jack left the supply store and started back to the main Hub to have a tiny mental breakdown of panic, before he realised the door to the cells was slightly ajar. He wasn't sure whether to be relieved or not yet, so he opened the door and stepped through.

He found the Doctor sitting opposite Janet's cell against the wall, his arms around his knees, just staring at her. She was staring back. Not even with her teeth bared like Jack was used to – just staring in return at him.

Jack took a quiet step forward, dropping to sit down next to the Doctor.

“Why do I feel so sad?” the Doctor wondered suddenly, not even looking at Jack.

Jack looked at him. “Not sure. Is something wrong?”

“It's in my head,” the Doctor told him. “This feeling. I don't know why. Every time I look at her I feel like crying.” He pointed at Janet.

“You're telepathic, and weevils are to some degree,” Jack told him. “You must be feeling her distress. Might be why she doesn't attack you.”

“It's so strong,” the Doctor moaned, dropping his head into his hands.

“You're unfiltered at the moment; you haven't learnt how to shield it yet.”

“Why is she so sad, then?”

“She  _ has _ been shot,” Jack reminded him.

“No,” the Doctor muttered, looking up to stare at Janet again. “It's not that. It's bigger than that.”

Instantly Jack realised. “Oh. The day you ... well, the day I went out, we ended up killing a weevil. She must know.”

“You shouldn't do that.”

“We had no choice.”

“But it was a living thing. You shouldn't kill living things.”

“I know, Doc, I know I said I wouldn't but you know, it was kill or have Cardiff killed, so how about you stop with the lectures and ...”

Jack trailed off suddenly, realising what he'd said. The Doctor was staring at him, his eyebrows lowered in confusion.

“Sorry, wasn't thinking,” Jack garbled out. “For a moment there I kinda thought ... Never mind,” he muttered, and jumped to his feet. “Hey, I was gonna teach you how to fight.”

The Doctor got up too. “Now?”

“Best time is now,” Jack replied, grinning and taking his hand. “C'mon.”

* * *

 

“Right,” Jack said, finishing wrapping up the Doctor's hands with tape. “Martha'll go mad if she knows I'm doing this before you're fully healed so go easy on yourself. And not a word to her.”

The Doctor nodded.

“Okay, tighten your fist, keep your thumb on the outside,” Jack ordered, holding up the Doctor's wrist. “Curl in your fingers and bend them as much as possible; curl them right into your palm. You wanna keep all your knuckles together; get all bones as tight as you can so they reinforce each other. Too loose and you'll break your hand on impact. Bend your thumb so it crosses your index and middle finger.” Jack held up a palm. “Press it into my hand. If it hurts you've done it wrong.” 

The Doctor made his fist and pushed it into Jack's hand, pressing as hard as he could for several long seconds.

“Hurt?” Jack asked.

“No,” the Doctor replied, pulling back.

“Good,” Jack said, and moved into his stance. “Now, stance. Left foot in front of right. Use your right as guard, keep it up as much as you can – that's what saves you from an instant KO. Let's see it.”

The Doctor moved into his stance. Jack took his right arm and pushed it up into his chin slowly, while pulling out his left arm to extend slightly more. “Keep your right by your chin for instant protection if someone goes near your head. Extend your left – that's your lead hand; where most of your quickies and set ups are coming from. Got it?”

The Doctor nodded again.

Jack moved to the punch-bag quickly. “Four basic moves you need to know. Jab, hook, cross and uppercut.” He demonstrated a jab into the bag. “The jab's a feeler and set up punch. If you throw a jab you're feeling for distance, or to set up for a heavier hit, like the hook.” He demonstrated the hook, next. “The hook's a power punch, and you're aiming for the jaw. You need a huge amount of power behind it. Remember, step forward, turn your body, and throw the punch.”

“Step, turn, throw,” the Doctor repeated, nodding.

“It's a slow punch you can use when your opponent's temporarily stunned, not before.”

“Step, turn, throw,” the Doctor repeated again.

Jack nodded. “Okay, cross. This is another power punch.” He demonstrated again. “Roll your shoulder with the punch, twist your torso and waist. Soon as you've made contact, bring your guard straight back up again. You can use it after a jab quickly in a one-two combo, or use it to set up a hook. Are you getting this?”

“Yeah,” the Doctor said, practising slowly in the air.

“Good. Last one, uppercut. Used right, this is the worst of them all. Bend knees, fist straight up to the chin.” He demonstrated on the punch-bag again. “If you hit them just right they'll lift and you can follow up with a hook, and no guy I've hit in the universe hasn't hit the ground after that one. You got those?”

The Doctor nodded once more. “Jab, hook, cross, uppercut, step, turn, throw and guard,” he uttered in a mantra.

Jack grinned. “Excellent. Right, hit me.”

The Doctor blinked. “What?”

“Hook, quick.”

“Okay,” the Doctor responded, and threw a hook like lightning. It connected with an unprepared Jack's face and he hit the floor in a yelp of surprise. 

The Doctor dived to him immediately, his jaw agape. “Jack, I'm sorry!”

“S'alright,” Jack muttered, getting up and pressing his fingers to his mouth. His lip had split. He turned back to the Doctor, trying to get a bit of bravado back. “Now ... I did that for a reason ...”

The Doctor stared at him. “Really? What reason?”

“Err ... Oh, God no, you got me good,” Jack admitted, still pressing at his lip. “Ow. I wasn't ready. Okay.” He held up his arms again, ensuring complete defence. “Right. Now jab to the stomach, I'm ready.”

The Doctor did so, and this time somehow managed to slip through Jack's guard to hit right in his stomach. Jack coughed and crippled, his breath instantly sucked out of him.

“I'm sorry!” the Doctor said again immediately.

“Bloody hell, Doctor,” Jack coughed out, struggling to sit upright again. “I didn't know you ... could punch so hard.”

“... Sorry?” the Doctor tried again.

“Don't be ... sorry,” Jack gasped, still doubled over, then he suddenly launched out, yelled, “guard!” and went straight for the Doctor. The next thing Jack knew, he was lying flat on his back on the floor having been parried and slammed into it.

“Sorry!” the Doctor yelped again, staring at his own hands in wonder.

“Oh god,” Jack moaned, still winded and not daring to get up for fear of being assailed again. “You know ... what, Doc? I don't ... think I need to ... teach you anything ... You already know it.”

“Oh.”

“Lesson end ...” Jack wheezed out. “And go find ... Martha ... I think I've punctured ... a lung.”

* * *

 

After a very lengthy lecture about how utterly stupid they had been from Martha, and after a very lengthy bout of laughing from Mickey, Martha and Mickey went to assist Jack, leaving the Doctor alone in the Hub with Gwen. Gwen invited him over with a cheery wave, so he went to her and took a seat.

“How are you?” Gwen asked. 

“Okay,” the Doctor replied, nodding. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure. Can't promise I'll have an answer but I'll try.”

“What is love?” 

Gwen pulled a face. “Start off with an easy one, why don't you.”

“Is it a stupid question?” the Doctor wondered.

“No, it's just ... Never mind. Why d'you wanna know?”

“I know what it's supposed to be, I saw it on a tape Jack showed me,” the Doctor told her. “Of me and Rose. I said I loved her and she said she loved me, then we did this weird thing where we put our faces together.”

Gwen couldn't resist laughing at that. “That's called kissing. When you love someone, to show you love them you kiss.”

“Why?”

“It's ... Well, I dunno exactly. It's the thing we do.”

“But how do you know if you feel this love?”

“Well, okay,” Gwen cleared her throat to prepare for an explanation, leaning forward. “Love is ... it's an emotion, a very strong emotion you feel for someone else. It's ... Well, when I'm with Rhys, I'm happy. You just want to be with that person forever. You always want to make sure they're happy too.”

“Okay,” the Doctor muttered, stroking his chin.

“Why?” Gwen wondered. 

“I think I'm in love,” the Doctor responded.

“With who? Rose?”

“No.”

“Then who?”

The Doctor looked slightly awkward. “I don't think I should tell you.”

“It's Jack, isn't it,” she said, smiling slightly.

“Yeah ...” the Doctor muttered, looking away.

Gwen bit back her laugh. “Been there done that,” she told him. “Everyone has a phase.”

“What should I do?” the Doctor wondered.

“Don't say anything yet,” she said. “Wait, see how you feel later. You're still married to Rose, you never know. When you see her again you'll remember.”

“You think I will? See her again?”

“I'm certain.”

“... And you won't tell him?”

“Oh no,” Gwen assured him. “Promise. Pinky swears.”

She raised her little finger. He looked at it, plainly confused. She took his right arm with her left and coaxed him to put his little finger to lock with hers. She tightened it, and he responded in kind. 

“You all do some weird things,” the Doctor muttered, staring at the pinky swear.

Gwen laughed, breaking the lock. “You can't love him too much. Didn't you just beat him up?”

“I didn't mean to,” the Doctor insisted.

She laughed again, just as Jack, Martha and Mickey reappeared. 

“I knew that he's a Tenth Degree Venusian Aikido Master but I've never seen him use it!” was Jack's excuse to the other two, coming up the steps. “How was I supposed to know he still knew it!?”

“You shouldn't have been fighting anyway! Men! Can't go without a fight for more than twenty minutes!” Martha exclaimed, clearly extremely annoyed.

Ianto stepped in front of the three, his expression very sombre. “Jack, he's here.”

“We were play-fighting!” Jack insisted, ignoring Ianto.

“Because play-fighting involves nearly breaking ribs, does it? He's already wrecked five! Imagine if that'd been him and not you! He'd be back in the med-bay!”

“JACK!” Ianto yelled, and all three stopped immediately. Ianto leant forward and whispered something to them. 

All three instantaneously paled incredibly.

“Doctor, go to my office,” Jack said immediately to him, looking up.

“Why?” the Doctor asked.

“Just go there!” Jack yelled, and with an encouraging pat on the arm from Gwen the Doctor did as Jack asked, and went up the stairs.

“What's going on?” Gwen asked, moving to them.

“The ...” Jack began but trailed off, looking at the door. Everyone followed suit.

There was the Master.

“Good evening,” he said, sauntering in leisurely and wiping a finger on one of the desks as he went. He stopped and checked his finger. He pulled a disgusted face, flicked off the dust and finally looked up at Jack. “I'd like to see the Doctor, please.”


	16. The Master and the Doctor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Master turns up in the Hub, surprised to learn that the Doctor is yet to recover his memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, it's been a while. So sorry! :o

Jack moved forward to the Time Lord, his fists clenched. “Leave, Master.”

“Umm, no,” the Master replied, taking Mickey's abandoned chair, spinning in it gleefully for a second before propping his feet up on the table and folding his arms.

“I told you to leave,” Jack grated, moving to within five metres of him and pulling out his gun to point at the Master's head.

“Oh, jumpy,” the Master commented, unabashed. “Where is he?”

“I will shoot you if you don't leave within thirty seconds,” Jack spat.

“Bad day?” the Master wondered, not moving. “I'd just like to talk to him. Fellow species, and all that.”

“I said I'll shoot you!”

“Jack,” suddenly came a voice from above. “Don't hurt living things.”

“There he is!” the Master exclaimed, waving at the Doctor enthusiastically. The Doctor just frowned back.

Jack put away his gun and ran up to meet the Doctor, dragging him back into his office and shutting the door.

“I told you to stay in here,” he grated.

“But he wants to talk to me,” the Doctor protested.

“You're not seeing him.”

“Why not?”

“You're just not!” Jack yelled, before getting a grip on himself taking a steely breath to try and calm himself down. “Sorry. He's evil, Doctor. He'll only hurt you. That's all he ever does.”

"Why do we hate the Master?"

Jack let out a long, breathy sigh. "It's a long story."

"Please tell me.”

Jack swallowed, pausing for a moment as if making a massive decision in his head. Then he guided the Doctor to sit down in the chair and perched himself on the table.

“He ... He was your enemy long before I met you. When I first met him he had forced the humans to elect him as Prime Minister, and he abused that power. He abused humanity. You tried to stop him but he ... Well he stopped you and imprisoned me, you, and Martha's family. After a year you managed to stop him, and reverse time so humanity could forget ... But we couldn't. That was the Year That Never Was. We don't ... We don't talk about that. Not ever."

The Doctor just gazed at him, about to open his mouth. Jack decided to get in quickly before he asked any questions about it.

"We thought he'd died, but when we saw him again it was with your future self while Rose was pregnant with Leah. The Master shot you, nearly drowned Rose, and then kidnapped her and almost killed everyone else in the process. He's a lucky son of a bitch because he survived and crashed on Earth. We didn't see him again for two years, when Rose got pregnant with Alex, but then you got into a tight spot with the Shadow Proclamation and had to ask him to repay a debt to you. But he betrayed you, and you and your family ended up being imprisoned and interrogated by the Proclamation for months. You were tortured, Rose was confined, your daughter was tested on, your unborn son was being manipulated in the womb and he just watched it all; did nothing. After that you cut him out of your life. You said he was dead to you and he left. I hadn't seen him until the day when he dragged you into the shop. I wanted to kick his guts out for even being here, even more for having you."

The Doctor continued to gaze at him. "What happened in the Year That Never Was?"

Jack looked at the floor, desperate to not have to give him an answer to that but he had no choice. "That was the worst year of our lives. He ... He took you to the brink. He loved every bit of what he did to you, and you ... God Doc, please don't make me say it out loud."

"I won't," the Doctor assured him. “But was everyone okay in the end?”

"Define 'okay'," was all Jack responded, staring at the ground.

“Was I okay?”

Jack paused, eyes flickering across the floor as though he were searching it for an answer to that question. “... No.”

“Did he hurt me?”

“... Yes.”

“How much?”

“I couldn't compare it to anything I've known.”

“And he did that to me?”

“Every damn day for a year,” Jack spat out, beginning to get angry at the memory now. “365 days of being there, hearing you, hearing everything and seeing you break in front of me like a piece of fucking glass and guess what? I couldn't do  _ anything.  _ I stood there in chains like a plank of wood, not even able to help you. Staring at it all, staring at  _ you _ descend into a pile of absolutely  _ nothing.  _ Everything taken from you ... Nothing left. Nothing left to lose. That was what he did to you, and you're lucky, now. You don't remember it anymore. I hope, Doctor, I really fucking hope it never comes back.”

The Doctor just stared at Jack, just sitting there with his head in his hands. Then he stood up. “I'd like to see him.”

Jack looked up immediately. “Did you just hear what I said!?”

“Maybe he can help me get to the Proclamation,” the Doctor pointed out.

“You can't trust him!”

“I just want to talk to him.”

“No!”

“Please, Jack,” the Doctor said softly. “I need to find my family. This could be my only chance.”

Jack faltered at his words and his expression, so sincere. His deep brown eyes were shining, staring straight into his. 

“I can't let you walk into this ...” Jack whispered. “I can't let him have you just like that.”

“Then come with me.”

Jack fell silent for a very long time, staring at the Doctor. Then he got up, leant forward and hugged the Doctor tightly. Protectively. Feeble half-broken bones, lacerated flesh and exposed blood making up the fragile structure of the man who was willing to risk that very mortal body being battered beyond belief even more to save a bunch of strangers.

“Okay,” Jack finally said, pulling back. “But I'm doing this for you.”

The Doctor smiled. “Thank you.”

* * *

 

The Master was still sitting on Mickey's chair in the middle of the Hub with his arms folded, being watched by every member of Torchwood as though he were about to explode. He had a smarmy smile on his face, enjoying looking at each of them in turn so they would instantly look away.

“Doctor,” he greeted, getting up as the Doctor and Jack reached him. The Master panned the other gallifreyan up and down, raising a slight eyebrow. The Doctor's sideburns were prominent, as well as with a coating of stubble that made it blatantly obvious they hadn't had any time to shave recently. His hair was as chaotic as usual, and bizarrely for the Doctor, he was dressed in a pair of black jeans, a plain white T-shirt with a pair of aviators hooked over the hem of his neck, a dark red cardigan, and a pair of hi-top trainers. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing thick bandages wrapped around his right arm and wrist. His face was covered in bruises and cuts, particularly the right side.

“Hello,” the Doctor replied simply.

“You look like you got into a really good fight,” the Master told him.

“I jumped off of a building,” the Doctor replied with no hesitation.

“... What?”

“Don't think that's anything to do with you,” Jack said dryly.

“Excuse me, conversation between higher species, move along,” the Master replied condescendingly, barely paying attention to him. “Let's talk out the way of these sticky humans, Doctor.”

“They're my friends,” the Doctor defended.

“They don't sound like friends if they let you jump off a building,” the Master pointed out. 

Jack fumed. “And I suppose real friends are like you, right?”

The Master ignored him. “Doctor, we need to talk without the drooling lapdog.”

“For god's sake,” Jack spat, and pointed to a side door. “We'll go in there.”

He took the two Gallifreyans through a side-door into a small storage area, closing the door behind him. 

“I'd rather you didn't listen in, you probably wouldn't understand intelligent conversation,” the Master said airily to Jack. “You might get confused.”

“Shut up,” Jack spat.

The Master just grinned, looking at the Doctor again. “Why did you jump off of a building?” he wondered.

“I wanted to kill myself,” the Doctor replied calmly.

“Why?”

“To regenerate.”

“What do you want, Master?” Jack interrupted swiftly, keeping a protective hand on the Doctor's shoulder.

“Get lost, Freak,” the Master said, batting him away and focusing on the Doctor. “Why did you want to regenerate?”

“So my head would fix,” the Doctor answered.

“You mean your memory? How is it?”

“I can't remember anything.”

The Master's eyebrows lowered, confused. “But ... It's been months. Let me take a look.” 

He reached up to the Doctor's head, but the Doctor instantly ducked away, flinching.

“Don't do that thing again,” the Doctor said, wide-eyed. “The thing where I couldn't move.”

“I won't,” the Master assured him, his voice surprisingly quite soft and truthful. “Let me just have a look.”

“What's wrong with you?” Jack asked the Master seriously.

“Go away,” the Master grated, his eyes fixed on the Doctor. “Let me see in your head.”

“No!” Jack chimed instantly, but the Doctor held up a hand.

“No, Jack. I'm okay with it,” the Doctor insisted.

Jack looked at him in horror. “No, Doctor, seriously, you can't ...”

“Jack,” the Doctor said firmly, turning to look at him. “What have I got to lose?”

Jack fell absolutely silent. Eventually the Doctor turned back to the Master, and nodded.

The Master reached forward to put his fingers on the Doctor's temple, closing his eyes. They remained like that for a good while, and when the Master drew back he was obviously in complete shock.

“There's nothing ... nothing in there,” he realised in horror. “Oh, Rassilon. Thete, please. You have to remember. Remember the Academy? How we skipped classes to run through the fields on Mount Perdition? We used to ... We used to yell up to the sky, and Brabbajaggl used to tell us we were a waste of spac e... Remember Brabbajaggl? His fat face and antique collar, and how when he got angry his face used to go all red and his cheeks puffed up?”

The Doctor was just staring at him, shaking his head.

The Master was suddenly a completely different man, desperate to get through to the Doctor. “What about the stories we used to get told? The Toclafane, Grandfather Paradox? What about your family? Do you remember your brother? How about Badger? Rallon? Millennia? What about ... what about when you told me you were kicked in the head by a Baanjxx when you were a kid, and that's why everyone thought you were a renegade? Or those times we went to the Lowtown for a drink, and one time we were both so drunk I ended up taking six Shobogans in a fight?”

The Doctor shook his head again as Jack just stood there, jaw agape. He knew there had been so much more to the Doctor and the Master's history than he knew, but this was incredible. This was why the Doctor found it so difficult to fully hate the Master ...

“The Deca!” the Master suddenly recalled, finger in the air. “The Deca, we were in the Deca with Drax and Ushas and everyone, everyone else hated us for being so smart. But you always used to be better than me and I was dying to beat you, but you never noticed I cared ... The Gallifrey Academy Hot Five! I was on drums, you were on Perigosto Stick. Oh wow, your Perigosto Stick. Everyone teased you about yours ... remember? Please tell me you remember.”

The Doctor continued to gaze at him without a hint of recognition from his words. He just shook his head.

This didn't dissuade the Master. He pushed on, dying to find something the Doctor could recall – almost  _ begging  _ him now. “You were disinherited and banished when Quences wanted you to be a cardinal and you refused. The graduation, how about our graduation? When we were finally Time Lords, we were the Class of '92 ... I threw you the really bad end of term party. We got our Tardises and my Tardis used to think you were a lunatic. Please, Thete.”

The Doctor shook his head one final time. “I'm sorry, Master.”

“Doctor ...” the Master croaked, his head dropping to his hands. “I ... I don't want to be the only one left,” he mumbled through his fingers.

The Doctor was still staring, his head slightly tilted, his expression inquisitive. “I'm sorry,” he said again. “I don't know what to tell you.”

The Master swallowed, looking to the floor with his head still in his hands. There was a very long silence. Absolutely no one dared to speak.

“... All right,” the Master finally croaked. “I'm going to help you.” He suddenly looked at Jack, his eyes abruptly narrowing. “A word of this to anyone and you'll regret it, Freak.”

Jack kept his mouth shut, and just nodded to show he'd acknowledged the threat.

“I take it we start at the Shadow Proclamation,” the Master continued.

The Doctor nodded. “Can you get us there?”

“Yes,” the Master confirmed, looking back at Jack – and his Time Manipulator. “Arm out.”

Jack looked surprised. “What? Now?”

“No, I thought sometime next year for the summer holiday,” the Master replied sarcastically. “Of course now, stupid. Arm out.”

Apprehensively, Jack held out his arm. The Master took the Doctor's hand and held it on the manipulator, and then punched a few keys. Within two seconds, all three disappeared.


	17. Dear Diary 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a diary entry, Rose goes away, leaving the Doctor to try and deal with his one-year-old daughter.

**31** **st** **October 2009 (Earth time) Leah – 1 year old**

_ Dear diary, _

_ The Doctor, here. Rose went on a 'girls' holiday with Martha, Sarah and Gwen (nope, me neither) for a week ... _

* * *

 

The phone in the console room was ringing. 

The little one-year-old girl toddled up to the console, looking around for one of her parents, but they weren't there. So she went onto her tip-toes, reaching a desperate arm up over the side of the console and managed to hook the phone with one finger, which dropped down the side of the console, hanging by the cord. She took it in both hands, then held it the wrong way against her face.

“Hi,” she said down the wrong end of the phone. “Hi? Hi!!!” she tried again, but she couldn't hear anyone talking back. Then she realised her error, and turned the phone back the right way. “Hi?” she tried again.

“ _ Oh, err ... Hello?”  _ a voice asked down the phone.

“Hi,” Leah repeated.

“ _ Is that Leah?” _

“Yeah,” Leah replied. 

“ _ Hello, Leah. How are you?” _

“'Kay,” Leah said politely. “How ah?”

“ _ I'm very well, thank you for asking.” _

“Who ah?” Leah wondered, spinning around in the cord.

“ _ I'm Sarah Jane, I'm a friend of your mummy and daddy.” _

“Mumma on loo,” Leah told her straight up. 

“ _ Your ... mummy's on the loo?” _

“Yeah,” Leah replied, nodding though Sarah couldn't see. “She do a doo-doo.”

Sarah laughed on the other end. “ _ Well, we can talk while we wait. So what have you been doing today, Leah?” _

“Me ... Dadda pay.”

“ _ What did you play?” _

“Hide 'n seek.”

“ _ Oh, really? That sounds fun. Who won?” _

“Dunno,” Leah replied, sniffing. “Noddone.”

“ _... You're not done? You're still playing?” _

“He is,” Leah replied simply.

Sarah burst out laughing again. “ _ He doesn't know you stopped playing?” _

“No.”

“ _ Leah, you really have to go and find him and tell him you're not playing anymore, okay?” _

“Mmm,” Leah said, but ignored that. “Wad 'boiler 'ead' mean?”

“ _ Say that again?” _

“Boiler 'ead.”

“ _ Oh, you mean 'boil your head'?” _

“Yeah.”

“ _ If you're having an argument and you're fed up with the person, you tell them to go and boil their head, which means you're telling them to go and do something bad for themselves.” _

“Dudit hurt?”

“ _ What?” _

“Boiler 'ead.”

“ _ Well, I expect it might hurt ... Why are you asking me this, Leah? Did someone say it to you?” _

“No,” Leah replied, twirling in the cord some more. “Mumma say 'boiler 'ead' to Dadda and he goned and I finks he did a 'boiler 'ead'.”

Sarah laughed again.“ _ Oh, were your mummy and daddy having an argument?” _

“Yeah.”

“ _ Aww, well they should know better than to do it in front of you. I'll have a word with Daddy for you.” _

“'Kay,” Leah said. 

“ _ Now I really think you should find your daddy and tell him you're not playing anymore.” _

“'Kay,” Leah repeated, and made to step back but instead found herself tangled in metres of phone cord. “Dadda!” she wailed, struggling in her self-made straitjacket.

The Doctor leapt out immediately from his hiding place under the console, nearly frightening the life out of her. “You're not playing anymore?” he asked seriously. “I've been under there for half an hour!”

“Dadda,” she sobbed, standing there wrapped in phone cord.

“Oh no, you're getting yourself out of that one,” he said seriously.

“DADDA!” she wailed, and immediately began to cry.

The Doctor tried  _ so _ desperately not to submit to her. He kept doing it, every single time. Rose had called him up on it. He needed to step back and let her fix her own problems, she had said. He agreed with her too. He was trying to change. 

He couldn't.

“Ugh,” he moaned, dropping down and helping her out of the phone cord. The moment he did she stopped crying and beamed her captivating little smile until she was free.

“Fanksoo,” she said sincerely. “Luvoo, Dadda.”

“Love you too,” he muttered, slightly distracted with kicking himself for submitting to her  _ yet  _ again. He reached for the phone, and unwittingly held it the wrong way to his face.

“Hello? … Hello?” He looked at the phone, then realised his error and turned it back around again. “Hello?”

_ “Doctor?” _

“Yep?”

_ “First thing's first, don't argue in front of Leah.” _

“Oh, sorry, we were just talking about dinner and I wanted Kronkburgers and I know she hates them, so she ...”

_ “Doctor?”  _ Sarah interrupted.

“Yep?”

_ “Second thing, can I talk to Rose?” _

“Oh, okay,” he said. “Hold on a sec.”

He moved to the monitor, pressing a button.

“This is a staff announcement; calling Rose Tyler to the console room, that's Rose Tyler to the console room, please, thank you!” he announced, and let go again.

Leah giggled at him, standing there looking adorable with her hands twisted in her shirt.

“Far too much like mummy,” the Doctor muttered, and turned his attention back to Sarah again. “She's just coming.”

_ “Okay.” _

“Dadda.”

“What? Sorry, Sarah, it's Leah, hold on ...” He looked down at Leah. “What is it?”

“Canava bissit?”

“What?”

“Bissit.”

“You want a biscuit?”

“Yeah.”

“We're having dinner soon.”

“Bissit?” she asked again, very hopeful.

He steeled his resolve; determined to beat the  one-year-old girl in a battle of not only dignity, but wits and cunning. “No, you can't have a biscuit,” he stated as forcefully as he could.

“Peas, Dadda?” Her big brown eyes shined, gazing up at him as she twisted her hands more in her shirt.

“Oh, please don't do that ...” the Doctor whined, staring at her standing there so tiny and utterly adorable.

“Dadda,” she said again, those wide brown eyes now far beyond the capabilities of Puss in Boots.

“Oh, fine then!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. She immediately turned and toddled out of the door with speed just as Rose came in, stopping her.

“Leah, you're not havin' a biscuit,” she said seriously.

“Buh Mumma ...”

“Daddy is very silly and says silly things that aren't true,” Rose told her seriously.

“But Mummy ...” the Doctor whined, staring at her.

She rolled her eyes. “Go and play, and no biscuits okay?”

Leah looked incredibly disappointed. “'Kay,” she muttered, and left.

Rose looked up at the Doctor, standing there still holding the phone. “Pathetic,” she remarked, laughing at his defeated expression.

“It's the eyes!” he squeaked out. “She doesn't use those  _ eyes _ on you!”

She just laughed, and took the phone off of him. “Hi, Sarah ... Yeah, he's useless ...”

The Doctor sighed, dropping into the chair and propping his feet up on the console.

“What ... When? … Oh, okay ... Yeah, the Doctor'll do it ...”

The Doctor looked straight at her. “I'll do what?”

She ignored him. “Yeah, of course, what date is it? … Okay, I'll get you all at three ... Bye!” She hung up.

“I'll do what?” the Doctor repeated.

“I'm going.”

“What?”

“Me, Gwen, Martha and Sarah are gonna have a holiday.”

“A holiday?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah.” She caught his expression. “What's so weird about that?”

“You do live your life as one long holiday, you know.”

She rolled her eyes. “I'm goin' on a boat cruise,” she told him.

“And what am I doing?”

“Pickin' everyone up and droppin' us all off at the boat,” she said.

“Do I get a choice?”

“No! Thank you,” she said, and pecked him a kiss before bouncing off to retrieve her sun cream.

* * *

 

“Now be good,” Rose told Leah, knelt down to her. “Have fun ... and look after Daddy.”

Leah giggled as the Doctor pulled a face at Rose. 

Rose grinned, hugging Leah tightly, kissing her three times for good measure. “I'll be back in a week, okay?”

“'Kay,” Leah responded.

Rose moved to the Doctor next, hugging him and giving him three kisses too. “Be good.”

“I will,” he assured her, giving her a dazzling smile. 

“Remember your new favourite word, starts with n and ends in o.”

The Doctor frowned. “What?” he asked, before the penny dropped. “Oh! Yeah. Sure.”

She just rolled her eyes at him. “Dinner's already out. Love you two! Bye!” she said, and left out the door. Even before she closed the door the Doctor distinctly heard her tell the girls, “he'll never do it!”. A gaggle of women giggled in response as she shut the door.

The Doctor felt mildly insulted in all honesty. Suddenly that wasn't just Rose taking a holiday. It wasn't just looking after Leah. This was about pride, honour, dignity ...

He took a breath and rolled back his shoulders to steel himself. “Leah, Daddy's in charge now so you have to do as I say, when I say and ...”

He trailed off as he realised Leah wasn't even standing there anymore, running off down the corridor.

* * *

 

He found her in the kitchen, standing next to the food cupboard with her hand near her mouth. The instant she realised he was there she immediately pulled her hand away behind her back, looking very guilty.

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. “Leah, did you have a biscuit?”

“No, ah dint,” she replied innocently, crumbs flying out of her mouth.

The Doctor sighed. “Okay, never mind. That doesn't count. Come on.”

He picked her up and sat her in her high-chair, where she obediently sat while he served the food Rose had prepared, sitting opposite her.

He started eating, but Leah was just staring at the bowl with her arms folded.

“Eat your dinner,” he ordered her.

“No.”

“What?”

“Dun like it. Notta bol!” she said, pushing it away and folding her arms again.

The Doctor stared. “What's wrong with it?”

“Notta bol!”

“But that  _ is  _ your bowl!” he protested.

“Not!” she retorted.

“Look, that's your special bowl and special plate and special spoon and special cup, and it's your favourite dinner. How can you not be interested?”

“Notta bol!” 

“Fine, what do you want to eat?”

“Puddy.”

“Pudding? How can you have pudding when you haven't even eaten the main course?”

“Puddy,” she said again.

“No.”

“Puddy!”

“No!”

She scooped up the contents of the bowl in her hand and threw it at him, and mostly by chance it went straight into his eye. 

“Leah!” he moaned, raking back the slop of food from his eye. 

She laughed at him immediately, picking up some more and throwing it at him.

“Leah!” he yelled again, taking the defensive and raising his arms. “Don't throw food!”

She threw some more at him in response.

He dived for the bowl, pulling it out of her reach. “No pudding.”

Leah was laughing at him covered in food far too much to care about pudding. The Doctor realised that in a very sadistic way, she'd won this one.

* * *

 

Six days later, a dishevelled Doctor walked down the TARDIS corridor with a steely expression on his face. He was covered in food, paint and various colours of liquid, with his clothes slightly torn and unchanged for days. His hair was everywhere, he was unshaven and smelt really quite bad.

Yes, he could admit it. Leah was winning _. _

But he couldn't let her win. He couldn't let Rose say, “I told you so!”, because he was the Doctor. He was a Time Lord. Intellectually superior to every other species in the universe. Super-villains trembled at the sound of his name, whole armies turned and ran away at the sight of him. He was the crème de la crème of world defence, and millions, billions and (probably) trillions of lifeforms were still alive today because of him. Because he was the Doctor, and he was  _ undefeated. _

He was so caught up in reassuring himself of how brilliant he was that he nearly tripped over a pile of toys, had to stumble to avoid them, and nearly fell head first into the door.

He gathered himself and stood up, brushing himself down before entering the console room. Trying not to slip on the rivers of finger-paint he programmed the TARDIS, waited, and landed with a 'thunk'. He then moved to the door, opened it, and instantly met Jack, Mickey and Ianto standing at a computer two metres away.

“Jack,” he whined, his voice flat and pathetic. “Help me.”

Jack stared at him, taking in every inch of his awful appearance. “What the hell happened to you?” he asked seriously.

“Help me,” the Doctor repeated, extremely traumatised.

“What? Has something happened!?”

The Doctor looked around quickly, and then beckoned Ianto, Mickey and Jack into the TARDIS silently. They got up quickly, flooding inside.

“Jesus Christ,” Jack muttered, looking around the console room scattered with toys and splattered with various colours of paint.

“The Tardis is  _ angry,”  _ the Doctor murmured, a bit of custard dripping from his chin.

“What the hell happened?” Jack asked again, staring at the sight.

“Leah,” the Doctor replied simply.

“You let her do this?”

“I don't know how to stop her!” the Doctor insisted. “It's been going on for a week!”

“Why don't you call Rose and ask for help?” Mickey wondered.

“That's admitting to her that I can't cope!” the Doctor squeaked.

“Well, clearly you can't,” Jack pointed out.

“I know I can't, but she can't know that!” the Doctor whined. “Rose is coming back soon and every time I try to clean it up Leah wrecks somewhere else! Please, please help me, Jack.”

Jack sighed, looking at a Lord of Time – the highest species in the Universe – standing there begging with him to help control a one-year-old. “All right. Where is she?”

“Her room.”

“Okay, Yan, Mickey, start cleaning this room. Doc, go and clean yourself up. I'll find the monster and subdue her.”

* * *

 

_ When the women got back they found Jack locked in quarantine accidentally by Leah, Mickey in the infirmary with a concussion after falling over some toys, Ianto having close to nervous breakdown, me trapped in an alternate second of reality after Jack pressed the wrong button on the console, and Leah eating everything out of the kitchen cupboard. _

_ Rose says she'll never go on holiday again. _

_ The Doctor x _ _   
_


	18. Footsteps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor, the Master and Jack head off to find the Doctor’s memories.

Tchan woke up.

He immediately felt his entire torso screaming in pain, as though it were on fire. He gasped and opened his eyes, the world around him slowly coming into focus to reveal he was in a hospital room. How did he get here?

He looked down as his torso only to find it had clearly been operated on, his chest healing from a sonic incision. How had that happened? He remembered being at work, and then ...

The door suddenly opened to reveal a Ganobian nurse dressed in the uniform for the Central Universal Hospital. Instantly he was relieved as she moved forward, before she realised he was awake, and stopped dead in her tracks.

“Hello?” Tchan asked, struggling to sit up. “Scuse me, what's happening? Ma'am?”

She didn't answer; her face had turned, turned into an expression of what Tchan could only take as shock, horror, and for some reason ...  _ fear  _ ...

She turned, and ran back out again.

“No, stop!” Tchan yelled, but it was too late. She was gone. He made to get up to find out what was going on when he realised that his arm was in fact handcuffed to the side of the bed. 

Wait a minute. Why was he handcuffed to the side rail? 

Everything quickly began to correlate and draw together into a perfectly logical answer. There was really only one option but even the  _ idea _ of it made him feel physically sick with utter horror.

He could hear marching, then. He recognised the noise, it was the march of the Judoon. Judoon were coming. The ones who had salughtered his planet.

Now he was panicking. He tried to escape but the cuffs held him firm, refusing to budge even an inch ...

The judoon reached the room, and he stopped immediately. They didn't waste any time, the lead judoon stepping forward to address him.

“Tchan Bajolz?” it asked.

Tchan stared at the judoon. “Yeah ...?”

“Charge; terrorism ...”

Every single cell of Tchan's insides immediately turned to ice. “What!?”

“Plea; guilty ...” the judoon continued.

“What are you  _ talking  _ about!? I haven't done anything!”

“Sentence; incarceration at Volag-Noc indefinitely.”

“Please, no! You've got it wrong! I'm not a terrorist!” Tchan practically screamed in fright and confusion. “I haven't done anything wrong!”

“You will have no chance of parole,” the Judoon carried on, clearly not listening to him.

“You're the ones that killed my planet!” Tchan yelled, fighting to get away again. “I didn't do  _ anything!” _

“You will not have a right to appeal ...”

“You can't do this!!!”

“Sentence to commence immediately.”

* * *

 

_ "Time travel without a capsule, that's a killer." _

The Doctor's eternal words were ringing in Jack's head as everything slowly merged back into focus. His head felt like it was going to break apart, so he closed his eyes and moaned his way through the pain until he felt convinced enough that he was out the other side. Then he opened his eyes, and looked instantly for the Doctor. 

This had been particularly nasty it seemed, as the Doctor was kneeling on the floor curled in on himself, and even the Master had to support himself against the wall. 

"You okay, Doctor?" Jack asked, kneeling down next to him.

"That hurt," he moaned, accepting a hand-up from Jack.

"Don't mind me," the Master said insincerely, pushing himself up straight too.

Jack ignored him, still holding onto the Doctor's arm. He straightened the gallifreyan out, meticulously pushing his hair from his face, pulling down his sleeves, and putting the sunglasses back on him before finally turning to look at the place they'd ended up. 

It was a dark alleyway surrounded by buildings, the dark red sky signifying the evening had drawn in directly above them. No less than four moons shone in the sky, bathing the planet in a warm red glow. 

"This isn't the Shadow Proclamation," Jack realised. 

"Observant, aren't you," the Master said dryly, stepping out from the alleyway. 

Jack sighed and took the Doctor's hand, checking he was fine before joining the Master. 

"It’s too quiet," the Master observed as they reached him. 

"It's night-time," Jack pointed out with just a hint of a patronising tone. 

"It's 8pm," the Master replied, just as patronising.

"Where are we anyway?" Jack asked. 

"How should I know?"

"I thought you were a high and mighty superior Time Lord?"

"And you think that ..."

"Shush," the Doctor interrupted, looking quickly around at their surroundings.

"Did he just shush me?" the Master asked, almost insulted as Jack laughed. 

"Both of you!" the Doctor insisted, letting go of Jack's hand and stepping forward. "It doesn't feel right here. There's things ... in my head. Voices."

"What can you hear?" Jack wondered.

The Doctor frowned. "... Confusion. Fear. And ... And ...” he suddenly stopped talking, swallowing as his eyes slowly widened. “They're here!" he suddenly shrieked, and began to panic. "No, no, no!" he screamed suddenly nearly bolting off but Jack caught his arm in time. "Get away, get me away!!!" he shrieked, urgently trying to escape Jack's grip. 

"What the ...!?" Jack yelped, struggling to keep a hold of him without risk of damage. 

The Master just stood there watching, his arms folded. "Just a guess, but try flashback?" he wondered.

"Run away, Jack!!!" the Doctor screamed in utter desperation, spit flying out of his mouth. He tried his entire body weight against Jack. “They’re gonna kill you!”

"Doctor! There's nothing ..."

“Wait!” the Master said suddenly, straightening up with his finger in the air. “Footsteps. In sync ... Judoon,” he realised, looking back at Jack. “Judoon are coming.”

He leant forward and grabbed the Doctor's other arm, dragging him towards a building. Jack had no choice but to follow his lead and pull the Doctor's struggling form after him, pushing through the door and shutting it quickly behind them.

The Doctor dropped to the floor immediately, curling up tightly to protect himself, hyperventilating The Master rapidly lost interest and moved to the window to check on the Judoon as Jack moved to the Doctor.

“Doctor ...” he began.

“No, no, no,” the Doctor repeated over and over again, shaking.

“We're fine in here, we're safe,” Jack told him, pulling him into a tight hug. “No judoon in here.” 

It took around a minute for him to calm down, by which time the judoon had passed. The Doctor finally got up with Jack's help, still shaking and looking around nervously. 

“W ... Where are we?” he asked quietly.

Jack looked around. “Pub,” he realised, letting go of the Doctor and starting towards the bar. “God, I could do with a drink.”

“Why did you react like that?” the Master asked the Doctor directly, moving from the window again.

“Master,” Jack warned in a low voice.

The Master ignored him, standing in front of the other Gallifreyan. “Why did you react to the judoon like that?”

The Doctor stared at him with wide eyes, slowly wrapping his arms around himself.

“Master,” Jack said again, firmly, pouring some drinks. “Leave him alone.”

“Don't you want to find out?” the Master asked, genuinely surprised.

“Not now,” Jack said firmly. “Seeing as you ran and hid from the Time War I don't expect you've ever experienced  a proper fight, but people who do and come out the other end of a horrifying experience are deeply affected by it. Whatever happened to him was clearly harrowing and he's traumatised. That was a panic attack. He doesn't need any questions from you right now. He'll tell us when he's ready to talk.”

The Master, for once, didn't have a clever retort. He just dropped into a chair and sighed, folding his arms. The Doctor remained stock still, still holding his arms tightly around himself. In the dead silence that followed Jack brought the drinks over, placing them down on the table before moving back to the Doctor.

“Doctor, relax. Sit down,” he tried to coax him.

The Doctor looked at him for a long while, slowly letting his arms ease to drop by his sides. He then took a seat, hunched over and staring at the table in silence.

“So what are our options?” Jack wondered, sitting down next to the Doctor and sipping his drink. “We can't be far from the Proclamation.”

“We've bounced off,” the Master muttered as he stared out of the window, clearly bored. “The Proclamation's probably been shielded. Most likely we're on one of the Haxuns.”

“So we get a flight to the Proclamation, simple.”

“Do you  _ choose _ to live your life in blissful ignorance?” the Master wondered.

“They wouldn't cut off their flights, even with the murders. They're the Proclamation,” Jack nearly spat back. “It's their duty.”

“Monkey see, monkey do,” the Master muttered airily.

“Shut up!” the Doctor suddenly screamed, curled up into himself with his hands over his ears, rocking back and forth.

“Doctor ...” Jack began, shuffling forward.

“Stop ... arguing!” he yelled. “Stop  _ screaming  _ in my head!”

“Okay, okay,” Jack said quickly, glancing at the Master. “We'll stop arguing, all right?”

“Not you!” he shouted, hands raking through his hair.

“Who?” Jack immediately asked.

“Everyone! Everyone here! Screaming!”

The Master moved forward, intrigued by the Doctor. “Does he not have any filters up?”

“No, he can hear everything,” Jack replied quickly. “Can you do anything?”

“Nope,” the Master replied immediately, and lost interest again.

Jack sighed and pulled the Doctor into a hug. 

“Jack, make them stop,” the Doctor begged.

“I can't,” Jack replied softly.

“Make them stop!!!” he screamed at the top of his lungs.

The Master rolled his eyes and leant forward again, pressing his whole palm against the Doctor's head. The Doctor sprung back instantly, his eyes widening. Jack was alarmed, just about managing to catch the Doctor as he collapsed back in a dead faint. Jack looked up at the Master, angry.

“What the he–”

“Relax,” the Master interrupted smoothly. “Fixed his voice problem, he'll wake up in a minute.”

Jack's eyes narrowed. “I thought you said you couldn't fix it?”

“Well, I lied,” the Master replied, blasé.

“Why?”

“Come on, I have to have  _ some _ fun,” the Master insisted.

Jack wanted to punch him, but before he could pull back a fist there was a sudden loud crash and the next thing they knew an alien in pyjamas was standing behind the bar with a laser shotgun in his hands.

“Get the fulak out of my house!!!” he screamed.

Jack got up immediately, keeping a hand on the Doctor. “Whoa, whoa, sorry, we were just sheltering, we didn't mean ...”

“I've had  _ enough _ from the likes of you!!!” he yelled, raising his gun. “I can't take anymore! Get out!”

“Okay, okay!” Jack yelped, scooping up the Doctor as the Master got to his feet slowly, clearly unabashed. While Jack was getting out of the door the Master was straightening up his shirt and waving to the alien with the shotgun.

“Tata!” the Time Lord said cheerfully before he left, following Jack out into the street. He nearly walked right into him.

“What are you...”

“Look around,” Jack muttered.

The Master, for once, took the order, and did. He looked around properly for the first time, taking in the sight before him.

The street was an absolute wreck. Shop windows were smashed in, parts of roofs were burnt and several buildings were collapsing in on themselves, but by far the strangest thing was the sound. Or rather, the lack  _ of _ sound.

Total silence.

“What the hell is going on?” Jack muttered.

The Master stepped forward. “I think more has been going on than the Proclamation cares to tell us.”

Jack frowned. “What?” he asked, but the Master didn't get a chance to reply as the Doctor stirred. Jack stood him up, holding onto him to support him as he came back to focus.

“Jack?” he asked after a moment.

“Morning,” Jack replied happily. “Any more voices?”

The Doctor blinked rapidly, looking around for a moment. “No. Only whispers.”

“Oi!” a voice suddenly shouted from behind them, and the three turned to find five aliens standing in the alleyway, guns at the ready. “You're on our fulakin' turf.” 

“Your turf?” the Master repeated, incredulous. “I think I'll walk wherever I like.”

Jack winced as the alien's eyes widened at the Master's words, before it suddenly laughed.

“Hey, k'ashi 'umanoid thinks he's the boss!” the alien said jokingly, looking around at its company who also laughed. The Master just rolled his eyes.

“Look, we don't mean any trouble,” Jack said quickly. 

“You better be makin' tracks in five seconds flat, 'umanoid,” the lead alien spat.

“We're going,” Jack said quickly, guiding the Doctor away, but the Master just stood there, staring at the gang.

“Master!” Jack urged, desperate.

“Um, no,” the Master said eventually, pursing his lips. 

“You ain't fulackin' moved!!!” the alien screamed back, and fired his gun. It hit Jack squarely in the chest. The Doctor yelped in alarm as Jack hit the floor, immediately dead.

The Master launched forward straight away, grabbing the Doctor and pushing him into the doorway just as the Master was shot too. The Doctor panicked as the Master hit the floor, coughing and choking with his stomach smoking. He fell limp.

Then everything fell awfully quiet as the Doctor stood there hidden in the doorway, absolutely frozen with fear. He could see Jack and the Master, lying there immobile as the Doctor tried desperately not to breathe too hard ...

“Come out, we won't kill you,” the voice said, and the others laughed. They were getting nearer and nearer ...

Jack ... the Master ... surely dead? He was alone. These people had killed them without remorse... They had  _ murdered them. _

Suddenly the Doctor was angry. Very, very angry. What right did they have? To kill his friends? To murder without provocation!? They had killed living things, living, breathing beings ...

There was only one sentence for that.

The Doctor felt his hand move without him doing it, and he looked down to see his right fist had clenched of its own accord. His fingers were curled into his palm with his thumb on top, his knuckles pressed together, reinforcing each other in the formation of a perfect fist ...

He closed his eyes and began to focus on breathing through his nose as the anger in him built into a crescendo ...

Then suddenly he could hear them breathing; every tiny breath rattling in and out their lungs. He could hear clothes shuffling, their heartbeats getting louder, closer. The whispers in his head were getting louder to the point he could make out words. And it was words of the people attacking him. He could hear their thoughts.

He felt a presence move to his left. Without even telling it to he launched out a fist and slammed it straight into the approaching alien's face. Then he wrenched open his eyes and looked, just in time to see the alien spiral up into the air and slam into the wall the other side of the alleyway with astonishing force.

“K'ashi!” one the aliens yelped, and then they were running. The Doctor didn't feel the need to panic. He calmly took off his sunglasses, hooked them over the neck of his shirt, and stepped out in front of them.

Four guns fired immediately, but he was already in a front roll. He leg-swept all four assailants, sending them all crashing to the floor. With precision and speed he began to attack relentlessly, twisting attacking kicks around to slam them into the floor as they approached, his feet and fists aiming for heads.

Every move came naturally, so he just let it take him over, regardless of the moves he was making. He dodged every hit and dealt out the rest, blood over the pavement and broken bones from head to toe of the two aliens he'd managed to pulverise within two minutes.

It was then two on one, and one charged. The Doctor anticipated his moves and put a punch straight to the approaching alien's neck. The alien choked and immediately collapsed to his knees as the Doctor dived to him, grabbing a chin in one hand and the back of the alien's head with the other and made to twist ...

And then that was when everything stopped.


	19. Message from the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor, Jack, and the Master are saved, and mystery of what happened to the Doctor deepens.

Jack woke up with the usual gasp of air, his head spinning like a fairground ride. It took a few moments for him to summon up the courage to lift his head, open his eyes, and meet the sight of the Master sitting across the room next to the unconscious form of the Doctor lying on a bed.

“Master?” he muttered, confused.

The Master noticed him, pulling away from the Doctor. “Oh yay, Jack's awake, we're saved,” he said insincerely.

Jack ignored him, looking at the Doctor. “What's he ...”

The Master shrugged. “Search me.”

Jack got up, barely looking at his surroundings as he checked the Doctor. He didn't seem to have any obvious physical injuries.

“No trauma,” the Master told him. 

“Did you check his head?” Jack asked anxiously, pressing a hand to the Doctor's face. 

“Of course,” the Master scoffed.

Jack fumed. “Do you get off on being a complete –” Jack was cut off by the Master suddenly groaning and doubling over, causing Jack to look at him with a frown. “What's wrong with you?”

The Master completely ignored the question, recovering slightly and looking at the Doctor's face. “His head's a mess, all electrical activity is low, as though it was severed and it's slowly creeping back up now. It's almost like he just ... stopped.”

Jack nodded. “But he's okay?”

“Probably,” the Master muttered, still doubled-over.

“What happened to the gang? And where the heck are we?”

“You do seem to assume I know everything,” the Master breathed out, clearly in pain. “Do you always do this with the Doctor? No wonder he hangs around with you stupid humans, you're ego-boosters.”

Jack ignored that. “Seriously, what's wrong with you?”

“I was shot, wasn't I?” the Master said disparagingly.

“Shot?” Jack repeated, looking at the Master's stomach area. He could see it had been treated and bandaged. “Are you all right?”

“I didn't know you felt so concerned for me,” the Master muttered.

“I couldn't give a shit about you. Believe me, this is the last place I want to be.”

“And yet here we are.”

“I'm here for the Doctor and his family. Not you.”

“I could walk out at any time, you know,” the Master pointed out. “Leave you both here to sort all your little problems out for yourselves.”

“Go ahead,” Jack challenged, his teeth gritted. But before the Master had a chance to respond to that the Doctor suddenly flipped on the bed, moaning slightly and curling his fingers in ...

Jack forgot about the Master immediately, as just as quickly the Doctor began to tremble where he lay. Jack held him firmly, desperate for the Doctor not to harm himself any further.

“What on ...!?” the Master exclaimed, getting to his feet with a groan and staring at the Doctor as he began to scream at the top of his lungs.

“He does this!” Jack yelled over the harrowing screams. “They're nightmares! We need to wake him up!”

The Master looked at him condescendingly. “This isn't a nightmare! You don't know Time Lords, do you!?”

Jack shot him a piercing look. “You don't know  _ him!” _

He held the Doctor tightly, willing him to wake up. After a few moments he settled and his eyelids flickered open, looking around in terror.

“Doc?” Jack asked quickly.

“Wh ... Where are we? What happened? Jack!?” he yelled, gripping onto his friend's arm to blood-stopping point.

“It's okay, it's okay,” Jack said quickly. “We're okay. No idea where we are, but we're all okay.”

The Doctor swallowed, still holding onto Jack desperately as he struggled to his feet. 

Jack hugged him tightly and caringly. “What can you remember?”

“I was angry, and I closed my eyes ... Then ... I was fighting,” the Doctor muttered. “I beat them up, I had one by the neck, I was going to ...” He stopped his sentence and stared at Jack in horror. “I was going to ... break his neck.”

Jack stared at him. “But you didn't?”

“I don't ... I don't know. Everything stopped then,” the Doctor croaked. “Jack, did I kill him?”

“Never mind that,” the Master dismissed, staring at the Doctor. “How do you know how to fight?”

“He's a Tenth Degree Venusian Aikido Master,” Jack replied in a tone that implied the Master was a complete moron.

“But you fought aggressively,” the Master pointed out to the Doctor. “Venusian Aikido is entirely defensive. If you went anywhere near his neck then that is breaking every Venusian Aikido teaching.”

There was a very long silence as the penny dropped with an awful clatter. 

“Excuse me?” a voice suddenly interrupted, a head poking around the door. “Doctor?”

Jack got up immediately, ready for a fight, at least until he saw the person. A small, thin alien woman stood there nervously, shaking slightly at the sight of the three. She was so unimposing that she almost seemed to blend in with the wall, so Jack changed tact and stepped forward as carefully as his could with a reassuring smile. “Hi, I'm Jack.”

“I'm Meera,” the woman said quietly. “Are you all okay?”

Jack looked around at his motley crew and then eventually nodded. “We're fine, Meera, just a few questions ...”

“I know,” she said softly. “I'm a doctor specialising in humanoid biology at the Universal Hospital. He asked me to look after you.”

Jack frowned. “Who's 'he'?”

“... The Doctor.”

Jack's eyes widened, looking back at the Doctor standing there looking very blank. Clearly he had no clue about this. “... Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“When was this?”

“Twelve years ago. He came to my doorstep. He seemed very distraught. He said that on this day in twelve years at 8:17pm I must go to the Ji'pau alleyway, where I would find eight people collapsed. He asked if I would bring back the three humanoids to a place of safety and treat their injuries. I didn't expect him to be one of them,” she finished, glancing at the Doctor still stood there behind Jack.

“Twelve  _ years  _ ago?” Jack repeated in disbelief.

“What else did he say?” the Master asked suddenly.

“A message, to you.”

“What message?” the Master asked urgently.

“He said ... please save me.”

“... What?”

“Please save me. That was the message,” she said quietly.

Jack and the Master looked at each other, and then at the Doctor still stood there stock still. For a moment there was only silence at least until Jack's phone started vibrating in his pocket. He barely noticed it.

“How do we get to the Proclamation?” he asked.

“Haxun One has a direct route supply vessel that's granted permission to pass through the barrier,” Meera suddenly said quietly. “It might be difficult to get there, though. Haxun One has been evacuated.”

“Then we steal a ship,” Jack said simply.

“Ambitious,” the Master muttered.

“Any other option?” Jack asked seriously.

“This planet is under curfew,” the Master pointed out. “The spaceports will be under high security.”

“Then we get through security, simple,” Jack said. “How hard can it be?”

The Master sighed and rolled his eyes, as if the question was so stupid he couldn't even be bothered to answer it.

Jack looked at Meera instead. “What's going on here, exactly?”

“The Shadow Proclamation have put us under curfew,” Meera muttered. “All the Judoon have stopped being police ... They're just standing around, guarding places. Even if a crime happens right in front of them they don't do anything. Nobody goes outside anymore, not even for food. We're too scared. All of our communication to outer worlds is monitored and nobody can leave. The Proclamation has shut all of its doors ...”

Jack gazed at her. “How are you for supplies?”

She offered a brief smile. “The Doctor warned me to stock up. I have a month's worth of food.”

“Good,” Jack said, nodding. “Stay locked up, we're gonna sort this, all right? Thank you for your help.”

His phone stopped vibrating, and finally he realised that someone had actually been trying to call him, so he fished out his phone and took a look.

**163 missed calls**

“Oh god!” Jack realised immediately, quickly dialling for Torchwood.

“What?” the Master asked.

“I didn't tell anyone where we were going,” he said as the phone rang.

“Calling mummy to let her know where you are?” the Master supposed.

Jack sighed as Martha picked the phone up.

_ “Jack! Where the hell are you two?!”  _ she shrieked.

“Near the Shadow Proclamation,” Jack replied. “We're sorting this out.”

_ “Don't tell me you're with the Master!” _

“Um, yeah, we are.”

_ “Jack!” _

“I know, but we're fine, the Doctor's fine. We're both fine.”

She sighed, clearly trying to calm herself down.  _ “For God's sake, Jack. This isn't a good idea.” _

“Tell me about it,” Jack muttered, glancing at the Master. 

_ “Can I talk you out of this?” _

“... This isn't my decision.”

_ “But ...” _

“Martha, we'll talk later,” Jack interrupted. “I've gotta go.”

She sighed again.  _ “Okay. I hope you know what you're doing.” _

“Me too.”

_ “From everyone here ... Please look after the Doctor.” _

“I am, and I will. Bye.”

_ “Bye.” _

He ended the call, looking back up at the Master.

“Back by nine,” the Master supposed. “Have we got to pick up some milk on the way back?”

“Shut up,” Jack grated, taking the Doctor's hand. “Quicker we get to the Proclamation the quicker we're done.”

* * *

 

They bid their thank yous and goodbyes to Meera, who firmly barricaded the door after they left. They emerged out onto a tiny street, completely deserted despite the fact it was 9am, when the streets should have been packed with people.

Jack kept his hand firmly in the Doctor's, making sure he kept close as they wandered down the eerie, deserted street. Not a word was exchanged as they followed the signs to the spaceport, occasionally ducking and diving around corners and into doorways to avoid any confrontation with the odd group of passer-bys.

It wasn't until they neared the spaceport did the Doctor start to react. He began to get very jumpy the closer they got, until they reached the final stretch where at the end of a long road they could see a long line of armed judoon standing in front of the entrance.

“No, no, no!” the Doctor yelped, panicking at the sight.

“Shut up,” the Master grated. 

“Not helpful,” Jack said in return to the Master. He grabbed the Doctor, pulled him into a doorway and clamped a hand over his mouth as gently as he could.

“Shush, it's okay,” Jack assured the Doctor, kissing his forehead. “I'm here, I'm not gonna let anything happen to you. You've gotta stay quiet. Please stay quiet.”

“'Kay,” the Doctor gasped out, holding onto Jack desperately. Jack continued to hold him, calming him down.

“How exactly were you planning on getting in there?” the Master wondered dryly to Jack suddenly.

“We're ambassadors for Sol,” Jack said simply. “We have an appointment with the President of Haxun One.”

“And you think that's going to work?” 

“They have nothing against us, they're looking for Echo,” Jack told him through gritted teeth. “None of us are Echo, so why should they be interested in us?”

“I do love that human positivity you all possess,” the Master muttered.

Jack sighed and gave the Doctor one final hug, before taking his hand and squeezing it gently. “We're going to talk up to them, get past, and be on a ship to Haxun One in ten minutes. Ready?”

“Okay,” the Doctor croaked. Jack pulled down his sunglasses and ruffled his hair slightly before leading the march to the entrance of the space-port. 

As they neared, the judoon in the line stared at them, their heads moving in sync to follow their path. Jack could feel the Doctor shaking like a leaf beside him; trying desperately to suppress himself.

“Halt!” a judoon bellowed, stepping out in front of them. “State your business.”

“We are ambassadors for Sol, we have an appointment with the Haxun One President,” Jack stated clearly.

“Your meeting is cancelled. Return home, solians,” the judoon replied immediately.

“But we have a meeting,” Jack insisted. “We have to be there by 2pm.”

“You meeting is cancelled. Return home, solians,” the judoon repeated.

Jack glanced at the Master. “We  _ have  _ to make this meeting, it's extremely important.”

“Move along solians, or be arrested under article twenty-one,” the judoon gruffed.

Jack's eyes widened. “You can't do that.”

“This is your final warning.”

“But ...”

“Restrain them,” the judoon rumbled, and suddenly they were drowned in a crowd of judoon. Jack immediately lost his grip on the Doctor's hand.

“Jack!” the Doctor yelped.

“Relax, Doc, just a misunderstanding!” Jack said quickly, struggling to see the Doctor through the crowd. When the judoon finally cleared he saw the Doctor standing there in the grip of three heavy-handed judoon, shaking very badly, hyperventilating ...

“No, no, no, no!!!” he was screaming, struggling to get free.

“Doc, it's okay!” Jack said urgently, trying to get free of his own judoon to go to him, but they weren't letting go.

“No!!!” the Doctor screamed again at the top of his lungs, pulling again to get free to no avail. 

The judoon completely ignored him. It raised a scanner to run down Jack.

“Humanoid,” it read off the scanner. “You have no charges filed against you. You are free to leave.”

The Judoon let go of him and immediately Jack bolted to the Doctor, getting a hand in to rest on his friend's arm to try and offer some reassurance. He was shaking so badly that Jack's entire arm was shaking with it.

The judoon scanned the Master next. “You are the Master,” the judoon gruffed.

“Please, autographs later,” the Master said insincerely, standing there also restrained by judoon and looking very bored.

“You are an associate of the Doctor.”

“Lucky me.”

“You have no charges filed against you. You are free to leave.”

The Master was a little surprised at that. “Well, that's a first,” he said, and stepped away from the judoon.

It turned to the Doctor next, scanning him. Almost immediately the scanner bleeped in frenzy.

“You are the Doctor,” the judoon stated. “You are being arrested under article three for escaping from Volag-Noc ...”

“What!?” Jack shouted, his eyes wide.

“... You will be escorted to Volag-Noc to be detained and severely reprimanded ...”

“Jack!!!” the Doctor screamed.

“When was he in Volag-Noc!?” Jack demanded to know, but they were already dragging the Doctor away. Jack ran after them, wrenching the Doctor out of their grip with one strong pull – and then they were running. 

The Master was already beside the doors, hacking the keypad to open. As soon as Jack and the Doctor reached the doors they practically blew off of their hinges and the Master was through.

No words were exchanged as the running began. The judoon were already on them; their gunshots almost skimming their heads. Even the Master ran through the terminals, over the gates and along fountains through the space-port, seemingly knowing exactly where he was going, and Jack followed with his hand in the Doctor's.

They burst through a final door, and into an airlock. The Master sealed it behind the other two, and then broke the lock as the air pressure evened out.

“What the hell happened to you?” Jack gasped, panting for air as he looked at the Doctor. “When were you in Volag-Noc!?”

“What's Volag-Noc?” the Doctor asked seriously.

A further barrage of gunfire interrupted any further conversation as the door began to hiss and spark. The air pressure finally evened out and the next door opened, which they all threw themselves through.

The Master shut the door and switched on a light to reveal they had reached a small private spaceship. The Master ran into the cockpit immediately without another word.

“Please tell me if you were in Volag-Noc,” Jack begged the Doctor, still trying to get some air into his lungs.

“... I don't know what that is. Is that a planet?” the Doctor asked.

“It's a prison planet. Were you ever in a prison?”

“... I don't know.”

“The place you woke up in, the first time. Was that a prison?”

“I don't know!”

“Doctor, escaping from Volag-Noc is  _ serious! _ You know what serious means? It means reprimand; it means punishment and discipline ... They'll hunt you down, take you back there and you'll be  _ tortured.  _ Think again. Were you ever in Volag-Noc?”

The Doctor stared at him, his eyes wide. “... I don't remember if that was a prison.”

“Okay,” Jack breathed, squeezing his arm. “Sorry.”

“Okay,” the Doctor croaked, staring at the floor.

Jack looked at him, standing there so lost. “We're not going to let them take you, all right?”

“The engine's been stripped,” the Master suddenly announced, stepping back through holding his stomach. “There's no chance this thing will fly.”

Jack and the Doctor moved to the cockpit, almost falling into a massive hole in the floor. Inside were the engines, clearly stripped as the Master had said.

“Sorry, kids. Adventure's over,” the Master said kicking a piece of useless metal.

“It can't be,” Jack breathed. “Can't we fix it?”

“Fix that?” the Master scoffed. “That can't be fixed. It needs new parts and hefty rewiring.”

“I can ... I can fix it,” the Doctor suddenly said, staring down into the depths.

The Master stared at him. “What, now?”

“I think I can fix it,” the Doctor responded, kneeling down to the exposed engines. 

“Can we be realistic here for a moment? You can't fix that. Nobody can.”

Jack sighed. “We'll just have to fight our way out and find another ship.”

“No,” the Doctor urged. “I can fix it.”

“Deluded,” the Master muttered.

“Shut up,” Jack grated, looking at the Doctor. “You really think you can fix it?”

“I know what I have to do,” the Doctor murmured.

“All right, get to it,” Jack said, slapping him lightly on the shoulder. “Master, let's take care of the judoon.”

Jack ran back to the entrance door, picking up a gun from a weapons box to the side with the Master in tow.

“You can't seriously believe he can fix that?” the Master wondered, also picking up a gun. 

“I don't know what I believe any more,” Jack admitted. “But if he thinks he can do it, it's worth a try.”

“You know, we could just hand him over.”

Jack shot a fierce look at the Master, raising his primed gun to the Master's head. “You do that and I will kill you.”

“Just an idea,” the Master said vaguely, rolling his eyes.

Jack sighed through gritted teeth, lowering the gun and opening the airlock. The fire-fight began.


	20. Prisoner of Volag-Noc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor takes a turn for the worse, whilst a new inmate arrives at Volag-Noc and discovers the prison planet isn’t quite what it used to be.

The Doctor was down in the engines, his brain working overtime. Inside his head was a picture of how the engine could be rewired to work, and a list of actions of what to do. He carried every action out, one at a time, even through the sound of gunfire metres away from him. That didn't even matter. The world was on mute as he concentrated solely on getting the engines to work, to get away from the judoon ...

His head was hurting quite badly, along with the rest of his body from the strain of the run. He felt a little dizzy and sick, but he  _ had  _ to finish this, so he persisted on.

It took a good few minutes, but finally the Doctor reached the final action on his list. He completed it, and suddenly the engines began to hum.

* * *

 

Jack and the Master both felt the judder beneath their feet as the engines started. 

The Master looked at Jack in disbelief. “That's not possible!”

“Retreat!” Jack yelled, backing up through the airlock again and slamming his palm on the lock as the Master got through. Leaving several dead judoon behind them the Master sealed it with his laser screwdriver and they both turned to the cockpit.

The Doctor stepped out of the door, a trickle of blood running down from his nose to his mouth. He looked like he had no idea what was going on, staring through them both blankly.

“Fixed it,” he said with a dazed smile, and then abruptly collapsed. 

Jack yelled in alarm and ran forward, but the Doctor was already having some kind of seizure.

“What the hell!?” Jack gasped, cradling the Doctor in his arms. “Master!”

“I told you, that wasn't a nightmare. I've seen this before. His brain, it's started collapsing,” the Master muttered.

“Where have you seen it!?”

The Master avoided his gaze, as he pushed Jack back, placing his fingers on the Doctor's temples. “When I've done this to other people.”

“Wha–”

“We need to get to the Shadow Proclamation and find out how to fix this, or he will die,” the Master interrupted smoothly.

“How long have we got?” Jack asked quickly.

The Master drew away from the Doctor, wincing as he looked at Jack. “It's too late for anything we can do. We've got forty-eight hours maximum, at a guess.”

“We've gotta get to the Proclamation,” Jack realised. “Doc! Doctor!”

“Hold on,” the Master urged, placing his fingers back on the Doctor's temples again. It took a good few seconds, but the Doctor eventually stopped haemorrhaging and just lay there, supine. Jack took a firm hold of him again, holding him tightly. He didn't wake up.

Without a word the Master ran to the cockpit. Then with a jolt and a grunt, the spaceship was on the move.

* * *

 

Tchan was terrified.

He'd been loaded into a prisoner transport vessel and immediately found himself surrounded by the worst the universe had to offer. Hard criminals covered in aggressive tattoos and scars; murderers, drug dealers, traffickers of all kind and everything in-between. He had only ever watched this on TV, judging from afar, being a voice of the masses condemning these people. Sitting there eating grockles with his parents in their tiny two-bedroomed flat in the cheapest part of Haxun One he had always been unable to comprehend how those people had got there. What had they done in their lives to get themselves to that point? How could they conceive of taking a life? What motivated them to do that? 

Never in his wildest dreams had he ever thought he'd be one of them.

The transport vessel was packed. Despite the fact they were all restrained he was only two inches away from a very threatening-looking Chizion with a mohawk and ten-thousand piercings. So for the entire trip he tried to stare at the floor and not get involved in their verbal fighting.

Getting out was the worst part. Everything was automated. He had to wait on his mark, before a beep sounded and he shuffled through to be processed and tagged accordingly. Then as quick as he was in, he was shoved into a corridor filled with other prisoners.

“Hey, a kid,” one growled, looking at Tchan and smiling a horrible, ugly smile. Immediately every prisoner turned and stared at him. Then they began to advance towards him.

Tchan wasted no time in turning and running for his life.

“Aww, come back!” the alien yelled after him, laughing.

Tchan ran down a side corridor with absolutely no idea where it led. He was so nervous that he kept glancing over his shoulder, terrified that they'd follow him ...

He ran into someone coming the other way, sending him flying backwards onto the floor.

“I'm sorry!” Tchan squeaked, not even daring to look at the person he'd bumped into for fear of death.

“You don't look like the usual type that ends up here.”

Tchan looked up at the cool, calm voice; coming face-to-face with a tall, slim blond-haired humanoid. He was curiously well-presented, his prisoner clothes ironed and tidy, and his hair combed neatly to a parting. He had a pair of glasses on that were slightly scuffed and taped up in the middle, but even the tape was the same perfectness of alignment as everything else on the man.

For some reason, Tchan immediately felt like he could trust him.

“... There's been a mistake, I'm not meant to be here,” Tchan gabbled out.

The man laughed – a joyful, genuine laugh. “Yes, I know the story. What did they tell you you were in for?” he asked.

“... I don't know.”

“They must have told you.”

“They said ... They said terrorism but I didn't, I would never ...”

The man chuckled slightly. “Yes, I can see you're not the terrorist type. Let me hazard a guess. You saw something the Proclamation did and they arrested you immediately, told you that you were a terrorist and brought you here?”

Tchan swallowed. “Yeah ...”

The man smiled reassuringly. “Do not worry. There are plenty of people like you here.”

“... What?”

“Let me show you around, and you can see for yourself.” The man gave him a hand up to his feet. “I'm Braxiatel. What's your name?”

“... Tchan.”

“Nice to meet you, Tchan. Stick with me.”

* * *

 

Tchan's impromptu new friend took him on a guided tour of Volag-Noc. There were absolutely no guards around – the prisoners just seemed to have complete free roam of the place. Braxiatel took him down a few wings and corridors; some doors open, and some closed.

They passed through a particularly narrow corridor, Tchan struggling to keep up with Braxiatel. 

“Keep your arms in down here,” Braxiatel warned, but didn't say why.

They passed through a particularly rowdy area, and suddenly Tchan's arm was grabbed. He yelped in surprise as he suddenly found himself up against the bars, held tightly in place as a low, gruff voice came in his ear ...

“Hey kid, wanna 'elp out poor old G'neek?” 

“What!?” Tchan practically squeaked.

“Get the key to me cell door, kid.”

“What!? I can't ...”

“I'll get ya sweets, kid.”

“I don't ... I don't want any sweets ...”

“How 'bout some drugs?”

“G'neek.” Braxiatel was back, and Tchan felt the  _ relief _ flooding through him as Braxiatel strolled towards them. “Would you like to put down my friend?”

G'neek let go immediately, and Tchan ran to Braxiatel's side. “Sorry, Braxiatel,” he gruffed.

“Don't do that again, G'neek,” Braxiatel said seriously, his eyes gazing into G'neek's.

“I won't, Braxiatel,” he said, and shrank back into the shadows as quickly as he had come.

Braxiatel nodded. “C'mon, Tchan.”

Tchan hastily followed Braxiatel, sticking firmly to his side this time.

“Don't bother to pay attention to the ones like that. We have free roam here, but this is still a prison. The worse people in the universe have got to go somewhere, I suppose,” Braxiatel told him.

“Yeah ... Where are the guards? I thought this place would have loads.”

“Gone. They left us all here,” Braxiatel told him. “There's not a single guard left on this planet, and the automated systems just keeps bringing in the new people.”

“Why don't you just leave?” Tchan wondered.

“Nowhere to go. Do  _ you  _ have anywhere to go?” Braxiatel pointed out.

“... Oh,” Tchan realised dully, suddenly feeling so incredibly alone. He hadn't even thought about that until now. He  _ really  _ had nowhere to go. Maybe his parents were still alive? Maybe they'd escaped from the Proclamation?

_ Escaped from the Proclamation? _

The insanity of that sentence was astounding. The Shadow Proclamation were the police, they took care of the universe. They stopped all the wrongdoers and protected people like him. Didn't they?

… No, not anymore.

They didn't speak for a while as Braxiatel took him through several more corridors, eventually reaching a rather ominous-looking door apart from the others – heavily barricaded and bright red.

Braxiatel made to move past it, but Tchan stopped him.

“What's in there?” he asked, pointing at the door.

Braxiatel looked back at the door, suddenly looking very sombre. “We call it the Screaming Souls Block.”

“Why?”

“It's solitary for the worst criminals this universe had to offer, category seven offenders. No contact. Someone goes in there, first they fight. Then they’re angry. Then they cry. Then they scream. And then there’s just silence. Complete silence, from then until the bodies are carried out. The lucky die of loneliness. The unlucky survive long enough to lose their minds. We had a Lucan in here once, you know, the telepathic types? He had to move further down the block. He said all he could hear were thousands of souls, screaming. He couldn't stand it.”

Tchan's eyes widened. “But they can't do that. Article fifty-nine and species rights ...”

“Do you really think they care?”

“They're the Shadow Proclamation. They have to.”

Braxiatel considered him for a moment, his face completely sombre. “I know you don't believe that anymore.”

Tchan swallowed, and eventually nodded. Just once. “Can't we get them out?” he asked, staring at the impenetrable door.

“There is nothing but the dead in there,” was all Braxiatel replied, before turning and beckoning Tchan to follow him again. “We have no place to bury them.”

They moved on through the endless corridors until they eventually came across a gathering of aliens playing board games together communally. They were laughing and chatting happily, taking Tchan a little by surprise.

“Do get a chair,” Braxiatel invited, gesturing to a line of chairs in the corner. Tchan did so, pulling up a seat. “Everyone, this is Tchan,” Braxiatel told the others. “He's just arrived.”

“Hello!” the cheery crowd chorused together. They couldn't have been less threatening if they tried, which helped Tchan to relax slightly.

“What are you supposed to be in for, then?” a pink-haired alien woman asked, smiling gently.

“Terrorism,” Tchan muttered.

“Oh, really? Me too,” a grey-skinned alien from the corner said, smiling.

“I didn't do it,” Tchan said quickly.

“We know, love,” an older Klixan said gently from the side with a smile. “None of us did anything wrong.”

“It's that damn ...” - sniff - “... Proclamation y'see,” a Garoot told him, wiping at his nose about every three seconds. “Think they can ...” - sniff - “... get away with it.”

“What happened to you?” the pink-haired woman asked, resting a soft hand on his.

Tchan swallowed. “They ... they wiped out my planet. I think I'm the only one left.”

“Oh, I'm sorry,” she said, squeezing his hand.

“Why did they do that?” Tchan croaked.

“Rumour has it they're scared,” a green man said, conspiratorial. 

“Scared of what?”

“Have you heard of Echo?” the green man asked.

“No ...”

“Not too happy with them. Echo's killing the entire Proclamation, one by one, so I hear. They're trying to find Echo so they can survive.”

“Who'd want to kill the Proclamation?” Tchan wondered. “They protect us ... Well, they  _ used  _ to protect us.”

“Not lately,” the green man said. “Got themselves all tangled up with something pretty bad and are now taking their liberties of destroying entire planets and hiding the evidence by sticking the witnesses in Volag-Noc – witnesses like you, like most of us. If you ask me, Echo's our saving grace.”

“But who's Echo?” 

“No one knows.”

Tchan thought about that for a moment. “When my planet got destroyed there was this really quiet person who seemed to know the Judoon were about to attack. Everyone started dying and they just ran across the buildings ... They saved my life.”

The green man grinned. “Were they wearing a black cloak?”

“Yeah ...”

“Never spoke a word?”

“Yeah ...”

“You met Echo.”

Tchan looked around at them all, stunned. “Really?”

“They say Echo flies like a chinar, runs like a g'jok and strikes like a cobra,” the grey man in the corner suddenly said.

“And long may they live,” the green man said with a smile.

Tchan nodded, his eyes disconnecting from the group to look around. Then he noticed someone was missing.

“Where's Braxiatel?” he asked.

“He doesn't tend to stick around,” the pink-haired woman said.

“Why not?”

“Braxiatel is busy,” she explained. “He spends all of his time sorting out the prison.”

“He seems nice.”

“Oh, he is.”

“What did the Proclamation make up to put him in here?”

The group all glanced at each other. “He's been here for fifty years,” the pink-haired woman said, dodging the question.

“So, what?”

“He's here because he actually did something,” she clarified. “Before all of this started.”

Tchan blinked in surprise. “What?”

“Didn't you wonder why every criminal obeys him? They're scared of him.”

“But ... Why?”

“Every new batch of prisoners that arrives, he saves us and keeps us safe. Then he picks the biggest of the bad ones and kills him, just by touching their heads. The others cave.”

Tchan's breath caught in his throat. “What did he do to get here?”

The group all looked at the pink-haired woman, as if daring her to say it. She leant forward, took a breath, and whispered just one word.

“... Genocide.”


End file.
